Laughter is the Best Medicine
by RavishinglyRood
Summary: His girlfriend died. And then his dad. Tim Drake is more shut off than usual. He pushes people away, and he never smiles. An old acquaintance of Batman's decides to help the boy, vowing to make Robin smile...even if it kills him.
1. Being More Timmy Than Usual

**Teen Titans**

_Laughter is the Best Medicine_

B. B.

Issue #1 – _Being More Timmy Than Usual_

Saturday morning.

11:12 AM, to be precise.

It's sunny day in a nice part of San Francisco. Across the street from Kelly's Outdoor Café, there is a bank. And in the bank's parking lot are three boys who seem out of place wherever they go. One of them, by far the smallest of the three, has brown hair and a baggy t-shirt which reads NoFX: _War on Errorism_. He moves—a lot—but at the moment is focused on doing skateboard tricks across the parking lot's architecture, but occasionally he'll go to the other boys. He'll talk for a few moments, fidgeting like it hurts to stand still, then goes back to skating.

The tallest boy has black hair, cut close to his head. He wipes his glasses on the bottom of his flannel shirt then twirls them around his fingers like a small baton. He plays with them more than he wears them, but his vision seems unaffected. He almost seems to glide as he walks around the bench, occasionally glancing across the street, pausing like he's heard something a great distance away.

The third boy is about average height for a kid his age. He has black hair and a plain grey button-down shirt which makes him blend in with the crowd. He sits on the bench, hands clasped, not picking at them, just staring off into the distance. When spoken to, he smiles. When he senses the other two boys near, he'll speak. Occasionally, he might even crack a joke. But as soon as their backs turn, his smile falls. He seems like the most average, the most normal out of them. In a lot of ways, that makes him feel the most like an outsider.

His name is Tim.

"Conner," Bart called. "Come over here. I want to see if you can ollie over this speed bump."

"No way," Conner replied. "I'm not going to do another 540 assplant for your amusement."

One moment, Bart Allan was in the middle of the parking lot. Conner Kent blinked, and suddenly Bart was standing beside him, holding the skateboard, and grinning. "But it's sooo funny. I mean, maybe not to you, but it brings so much joy to our lives, right, Tim? There's just something about Superboy being super-ungraceful."

"I'm not supposed to be graceful. I'm supposed to fly faster than speeding bullet and stop trains, or something like that. Robins, now _they're _graceful. Why don't you ever bug Tim about skating?"

"Heeey, you're right! Tim, you've never been on the board before. What don't you hop on and give a shot? I bet you're a natural."

Tim shook his head.

"Come on," Bart said, appearing next to the bench. "I promise I won't laugh." A grin. "Not too hard, anyway." He pulled his fist back to give Tim a gentle punch in the shoulder.

But Tim caught it. Tim's eyes met his. "Don't."

"Geeze, it wasn't like I was going to deck you," Bart said, yanking his fist away. "I was just going to give you a love tap. You know, as a sign of fraternal affection. Like we're friends or something."

"Just don't."

"Fine. Do you at least want to skate?"

"Why does it matter so much if I get on a piece of wood stapled to wheels?"

"You know, I don't know! Maybe because you're my friend, and sometimes friends like to do things together. Like introduce their friends to things they've never done before because it might be fun or at least an interesting experience." Bart clutched his skateboard under his arm and stomped a few steps away. "God!"

"Bart, calm down," Conner said.

"No way, not with the way Captain Moodswing the Boy Bipolar Disorder has been acting lately. All day he's done nothing but cut me down. Like when we were at the music store, and I said we should start a folk-punk band, and Tim was like, 'That's dumb.' Well, duh, that's the point. I was being facetious. All day, any time I try to lighten the mood, he's too busy sulking to smile."

"Bart, he just has a lot on his mind."

"I know! I realize that. And I'm trying to do my part and help him take his mind off it. But instead of letting me or politely saying, 'Thanks, Bart, but I'd really like to be left alone right now' he acts like a jerk! He won't let us be his friends because he's too busy treating us like punching bags and taking things out on us! It's no wonder he fixates over not becoming Batman so much. The guy obviously learned how to shut people out from the best too."

Bart sighed. "I'm going to go find Beast Boy. See you at the tower." And then he was gone, papers rustling where he had just been.

Conner looked at Tim who sat on the bench not moving. Not reacting at all to what Bart had just said. "I'm sure he didn't mean that," Conner said. "He's just overreacting."

Tim shrugged.

Conner sat down beside him. "You have been difficult to put up with lately, though."

Across the street, a man walked down the sidewalk clutching a small boy's hand. The boy gave the man's sleeve a tug, and he stooped down to scoop the boy up. He held him close for a moment then placed the boy on his shoulders.

"Does it have to do with your dad, Tim?"

Tim looked at Conner's face. Conner really was concerned about him.

"Partly," Tim muttered.

"Whatever it is, you know you can always talk to me about it. You know my big secrets. I may as well know yours."

"Thanks."

Just then, a pair of slender arms slid over Conner's shoulders. The wrists crossed over his chest, and they pulled him back against the bench. A soft face pressed against his, and then lips brushed his neck. "Hey, boys," Cassie said. "How are you guys?"

"Fine," Tim said.

"And how are you doing?" Conner asked. He wrapped his arms around Cassie's waist, and he pulled her onto his lap.

She laughed. "I can't complain." She patted him on the chest, and then Tim watched as their faces moved towards one another, their lips growing closer. It seemed to move in slow motion, an eternity spent with their mouths hovering over each other.

"I think I'm going to go," Tim muttered. He stood up from the bench.

"Wait! Hey! Where are you going?" Conner asked.

Tim shrugged. "I'll see you at the tower." Then he started walking down the street.

"So I take it he's still being…whatever he's being?" Cassie asked.

Conner nodded. "Yeah, and whatever he's being…he's being a lot of it."


	2. Gifts

Issue #2_– Gifts_

Warm beams of lazy sunlight drifted through the windows of the highest floors of Titans Tower. The main lounge, which housed the plasma screen TV and the two Game Cubes Bart had broken (too much high speed _Street Fighter _button mashing), was quiet except for the heavy steps of a large robotic man. He walked across the floor carrying a box brightly colored green and tied with a big red bow. After he set the box on the table, he pulled up a chair, rested his chin in his hands, and just stared at it in silence. The red mechanical eye on the left side of his face whirred and clicked as it focused and refocused, running information to his brain.

He sat like a statue and didn't even move when the green monkey pawed outside the window. It muttered something that could have been profanity, and then it fumbled with a latch. "You know, you could have given me a hand," Beast Boy said, transforming back to human.

"Sorry."

Gar shrugged, and he went to the refrigerator for a Kool-Aid Kool Burst, which the Titans had found oddly addicting. Raven of all people had brought them into the tower. As he walked around the counter, one eye stayed focused on his friend who still didn't move. As he popped the top off his drink, Beast Boy noticed the box. "Well, well, well, what's this? Peeking in our Christmas presents a little early are we, Cyborg?"

"It's another present from our secret admirer."

Beast Boy rolled his eyes. For the past couple of weeks, somebody has been leaving colorful packages on the Titans' doorstep. They always included a tag, something gushingly sweet like: _Dear Titans! Here's a gift for being such 'super' people! No pun intended! Ha! Regards, Your Secret Admirer._ When the first package appeared, they had all been naturally suspicious. After all, in their line of work, it wasn't unusual for some misguided psychopath with a bad gimmick to decorate a shrapnel bomb as a birthday cake with _Sesame Street_ characters. In fact, Beast Boy was pretty sure the Toyman had done it once. So Victor—Cyborg—ran all sorts of tests on it. Eighteen hours later, still hesitant, he announced the package as 'safe.' And when they opened it up, to all of their horror and surprise, the Teen Titans found…

…a pair of reading glasses.

Not even good reading glasses but the cheap, two-dollar kind one buys in the jewelry section of a department store. Superboy had tried them on, said they weren't even good enough for his Conner Kent disguise, and the glasses were tossed in the closet where the Titans kept all of the brik-a-brak one collects while superheroing.

The next weekend, a similar thing happened. Another package appeared at their door, another gushing message, and another series of tests. Again, the package came up clean, and this time they opened it and found…a pair of false teeth.

"So, what," Beast Boy had said, "is this supposed to encourage us to keep taking a bite out of crime?"

Now it had happened again, the third week in a row. This time the tag read: _Dear Friends—The Super Friends! I thought of you when I saw this, and I had to pick it up. Tootles for now! Your Secret Admirer._

Beast Boy slurped the last of his drink. "You know, I hate to say this, but I miss the days when super villains were obnoxious _and _dangerous, not just obnoxious. Back when they would send you something you would never use like a toilet seat warmer, but at least they would have the decency to lace it with anthrax first."

"It may not be a villain at all. It could be some misguided fan."

"Hey, I hadn't thought of that. Fans get pretty crazy. One time a Space Trekkette sent me pictures of her entire body painted green. As in, everything. Nothing left to the imagination."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"One, I think she was about fourteen. Two, I don't know how she got green dye or the camera up _there_."

Cyborg chuckled.

"So why don't you just open it already? You know it's harmless, right? It's probably just another dumb gag."

"There's just something about it, though. I have a feeling. There's something suspicious about it, like an aura. Something that just feels wrong."

"You were one of those kids who never even peeled back the paper, weren't you? Here, give me that." Beast Boy leaned over Cyborg, who didn't lift a finger in protest, and savagely ripped at the paper surrounding the box. He tore it to shreds, making it unsalvageable for regifting, and he peered into the box. His mouth fell open, and his eyes widened. "Oh my god…"

"What is it?"

"It's terrible. It's horrible. It's…" He reached inside. "A plastic horse!" Beast Boy screamed and writhed on the table as he made the horse trample over his body. "Oh no! The ribbon…tied around…its neck! It must…mass…it must increase its mass…crushing…sternum…can't breathe…tell Bart…I…stole…_Mortal Kombat_ from him…" Beast Boy went limp, and his tongue slid out of his mouth. A tiny pool of drool formed on the table.

"You're funny."

"I know." And then Beast Boy started the charade again.

So imagine the looks on the faces of the other Titans, sans Robin who asked to be left alone, when they opened the door to find Beast Boy writhing all over the table at the mercy of a toy horse.

"Okay, is anybody really surprised?" Bart asked. Nobody raised their hand. "That's what I thought. Did we get another present? Let me see!" Bart zipped to the table and sat next to Beast Boy. He took the horse, and he looked it over. "Wow, it looks like an American Cream. That's the only heavy breed to originate in America, you know."

"Actually, I did know that." Beast Boy grinned.

"It's a plastic horse?" Conner asked, floating over to the table. Bart held the horse out to him, but instead, Conner picked Bart up by a belt loop, letting the smaller boy dangle as he looked at the toy. "I don't get it."

"I don't think we're supposed to," Cyborg said.

Conner set Bart back on the table, and he, Cyborg, and the rest of the Titans engaged in a discussion about their bizarre secret admirer. "Maybe it's somebody who wants to join the Titans. Like Green Arrow, or something."

Bart tuned them out. The gifts were clearly senseless items, not meant to mean anything. And besides, he had a super wedgie to work out of his underwear. As he wiggled and squirmed on the table, Beast Boy nudged him.

"Hey, where's Tim?"

Bart sighed. "He's being all shut off and brooding."

"He has a lot on his mind."

"I know. I realize that. We sort of got into it earlier today. I kind of yelled at him for being difficult. I felt bad about it, so about an hour ago I went to his room. He just kind of stood there as I gave him a hug, and I told him that I was sorry and I realize he's working through things and not trying to shun us. He didn't really say anything."

Bart sighed again. "I can't tell if he's mad at me or not."

"I doubt Tim's mad at you," Raven said. Her voice almost made Bart jump. There was just something about it. "You do make him sad though."

"What? How do I make him sad?"

"We all do. But you and Conner especially. Whenever he sees you, his heart wells up with happiness for a moment. But then he washes it away with a deep sense of loneliness and hurt."

"Huh? That doesn't make any sense!"

"Actually, it does." Beast Boy leaned back on the table. "Think about it. His dad just passed away. So did that girl Robin. He hasn't said anything about her, but you know the Bat Family—they had to at least know each other. When people you care about go away, especially suddenly and senselessly, it makes some people feel detached. Some people don't let themselves care about other people, not truly, because they never want to feel that kind of hurt again."

Bart just nodded.

"That was very insightful, Gar," Raven said.

"Eh, it was just spoken from experience."

Just then, an ear-splitting siren went off, shattering the air, and making the hair on the back of their necks stand on end. Before anybody could say anything, the doors slid open, and Tim walked in, in full Robin costume fastening his cape around his neck.

Beast Boy nudged Bart. "And I thought you were the speedster."

"What's going on?" Robin asked.

"Somebody's on the island," Cyborg replied. They all went over to the wall, and it flickered as the rocks and coastline of the island came into view. There, in the distance, was the very small silhouette of a man waving his arms. If you squinted hard enough, you could make out the rowboat beside him.

"Zoom," Cyborg ordered.

The camera zoomed in, focused itself, and the man's features became clear. A collective hush, mixed with muffled gasps, filled the room.

The man was thin, tall and lean, like the frame for a scarecrow. He had a long chin, a slim nose, and a messy shock of hair on top of his head. A messy shock of hair that was green. His lips were crimson red, twisted into a grin which revealed menacing teeth as white as his skin. There was something wicked about the twinkle in his eye.

"Is that who I think it is?" Bart asked.

Robin bit his lip. "It's him. It's the Joker."


	3. Uncle Joker

Issue #3 – _Uncle Joker_

Tim's hands flew over his utility belt, shifting things back and forth. He pulled his staff free in one hand and palmed several pellets in the other. "All right, Starfire, you and Cyborg will take the lead with me. We'll make a triangle formation with me at the point, and Starfire on the left, and Cyborg on the right. Best Boy, Raven, I want you guys to follow behind. Stay close enough to react in an expedient amount of time, but be sure to stay out of his line of vision. The rest of you, stay here."

"Hey hey hey!" Cassie said.

"And just who put you in charge of the team, Boy Wonder?" Conner asked.

Robin may have blinked. They couldn't tell through the mask. "I've actually dealt with him before, even on a limited basis. I know the most about him. I work with the guy he's fixated on, and I'm most likely to know how to deal with him." In the back of his mind, he added, _And I'm probably the reason he's here._

"Okay, fine," Conner said, crossing his arms. "But what's with this, 'You guys stay in the tower' stuff?"

"You're not in costume."

"Neither are Raven or Starfire!" Cassie protested.

"And mine's just jeans and a t-shirt anyway…" Conner said.

"And I just put mine on." Suddenly Bart was wearing the Kid Flash suit.

"Look, the senior members of the team have more experience, and—"

Cassie cut him off with a glare. "Whoa. Senior members? More experience?"

"Since when are you a senior member, Tim?" Conner asked.

"Yeah, and since when are you for segregating the team? You were the most vocal against that from the start!" Cassie said.

"We've been up against Brother Blood. We just took on the Fearsome Five _Hundred_. _I've_ been toe to toe with freaking Superman!" Conner exclaimed. "I think we can take one guy in a ridiculous costume."

"That's just it," Robin snapped. "You don't know him. You don't understand him. And you don't realize how dangerous he is. You think just because you have magic lassos, and heat vision, and super speed then you can take him out like that." Robin snapped his fingers. "He's dangerous. He's killed over 2,000 people, one of those was Robin before me, and another was a police commissioner's wife. He's the reason the original Batgirl will never walk again. And if he's standing on our doorstep, then he obviously has some kind of sick and twisted plan in mind, and we've probably already stepped right into it. And if anything happened to you guys, Cassie, Conner, and Bart, I'd…." Robin's voice trailed off.

"You'd what?" Conner asked defensively.

Just then Joker's voice crackled over the speakers. "Yoo hoo! Justice Little League of America! Your Uncle Joker's come to visit! Why not come out and give him a big warm hug?"

"I think Robin's right," Cyborg said. "We should be more than enough to overpower him, but if something does go wrong, you guys are here for backup."

Starfire, Beast Boy, and Raven all nodded their heads in agreement. Bart realized that he was the only one who noticed the strange looks on their faces. He knew what it meant too. By leaving them in the tower, Robin wasn't just protecting them—he was protecting himself.

"Oh come on!" Joker whined. "What is taking so long? Are you all asking permission from your parents? Ringing up Superman, Wonder Woman, Animal Man…uh…Starfire Man…one by one to see if you can come out and play? I promise, I'm not a stranger. Just ask Bird Boy, the Boy Blunder! And besides, even if I was…" Over the large screens, Joker reached behind his back. "I've got candy!" He started licking a lollipop the size of his head.

"Come on," Robin said. "Let's go."

Cassie and Conner both turned their faces from him as he pushed his way through, but Bart tugged on his cape. "What is it, Bart?"

"Robin…if you need us, we'll be there. Right behind you."

"Thanks." Robin looked at the others, the ones he was bringing out in the field. "Titans together, I guess, and all that."

The Joker stood on the beach of the island, the water from the bay lapping at his hills. He was wearing sandals, a pair of blue shorts, and a Hawaiian t-shirt because the seemed like appropriate island attire. He twirled the chain of a pocket watch around his finger, and he hummed a little tune to himself:

_I go LOO-OO-OONY as a light-bulb battered bug, simply LOO-OO-OONY, sometimes foam and chew the rug…Mister, life is SWELL in a PADDED CELL, it'll chase those blues AWAY…you can trade your gloom for a rubber room, and injections twice a day!_

It had been stuck in his head all day. He wished he could remember what it was called or where had first heard it...

"Joker, whatever you're planning, give it up."

Joker looked up, and dropping down in front of him was Robin, the Batman's sidekick. Or one of them. He had so many of them these days, it was hard to keep track. Joker was seventy-four point five percent certain this wasn't the one he had killed. The rumor on the street was that one hadn't stayed dead. Oh well, it was the fun the first time, maybe it'd be fun again!

"You're late," Joker muttered, looking at the watch. "Kid, I hate to do this to you, because I know living under Batman's shadow must be difficult, what with those large pointy ears blocking the sunlight, but when it comes to punctuality, he has you beat hands down."

"Save it. Let's make this easy on both of us. Just come along peacefully."

Joker always had a smile, but he stopped the sly one from crossing his lips. This kid was, what, sixteen? His voice wasn't even fully mature, yet here he was trying to sound like he was in control. Joker could hear Robin lowering his voice, trying to affect the tone of Batman. But this kid, he was no Batman. He could never be Batman.

The whir and click of metal caught Joker's ear. He looked up, and not far away, a robotic man had a canon pointed at him. On Robin's other side, there was that orange woman with the gawdy hair who that one kid—not Robin or Batgirl, but he hung out with Batman…what was his name? Bat Boy or Night Bird, something like that—whoever he was, he used to like her, a lot. She had a finger pointed at him, and it started to glow. She was probably one of those aliens with the fancy schmancy super powers.

And in between them both, standing in front of that ridiculous tower shaped like a _T_, stood the Boy Wonder. Looking so tall, and young, and brave. And so very, very miserable.

This time, Joker did grin bigger. This was going to be fun.


	4. The Jester

Issue #4 – _The Jester_

Robin's hand tightened around his staff. The sweat making his glove slip slightly. He kept his stature. He kept his poise. He was blocking it out, but in the back of his mind, way deep down, a small voice he could barely hear kept rambling on and on. _Why is he here? Of all of them, why does it have to be him? _

_You can do this, Tim. You've done this before, on your own. _

_But that was back when being Robin was fun. Before it was real. Before people got hurt. _

_But this time you have friends with you. If you handled him alone, you can handle him with friends. _

_But that also means there's more people for him to hurt. And he will. He killed Jason._

Robin bit his lips.

Batman's words echoed in his head. _"You're nothing like Jason."_

"Joker. You have until the count of three."

"What's the point, bird brain? My plan's already been executed! And I must say, it's my most deliciously diabolical plot yet! Ooo-hoo-hoo!"

Robin's heart leapt. He forced it back down. He ordered a drop of sweat to retreat into his brow.

"What have you done this time, Joker?"

"It's a two part scheme. And the first part involves you, the Teen Titans! I don't want to give it all away, but let's just say I've been watching you kids for a while. In fact, you might even call me an 'admirer.' You're 'secret admirer.'"

"The presents…"

"Right-o, boy-o! Say, you really are the apprentice of the world's greatest detective, aren't you? A chip right off the old block!"

"The gifts. The objects. What are they?"

"Whaaat? You mean you can't tell?"

"Don't play games, clown."

"I sent you a pair of glasses, a set of false teeth, and a toy horse with a bow. It should be obvious."

"A horse?"

"It came today," Cyborg offered, still aiming his arm cannon on the Joker. "It was, like he said, a toy horse with a bow."

"So what are they really?" Robin asked, having not taken his eyes off Joker.

"You mean you don't get it?" Joker's shoulders sank and his face drooped. He looked like he might cry.

"Just tell me."

"But the joke's no fun if I have to explain it." Joker sighed and kicked at a rock.

"You're about two seconds away from getting your teeth knocked down your throat."

"You use the glasses to see," the Joker said slowly, like he was explaining it to a simpleton. "The teeth go inside your mouth." He pointed to his mouth. "And a horse with a bow, well, that makes it a gift horse."

Robin didn't say anything.

Joker sighed. "I really thought better of you. I thought you at least had a better sense of humor than Batman, but he would have gotten that. Come on! You don't _look_ a _gift horse_ in the _mouth_!" And then the Joker clutched his side and cackled, one of those hideous laughs of his. Not the one that makes you feel sick inside, he saved that one for when he was being truly devious. This one just made Robin's fist clinch and yearn to hit him more.

"That wasn't funny."

"Maybe you just don't get it yet. But that was only part one. The other joke…is this."

Joker reached behind his back, but before he could pull his arm back around, a starbolt from Starfire and a plasma blast from Cyborg scorched the ground at his feet. They were accompanied by a bang, but smaller snaps and pops came as Robin threw tiny pellets which struck Joker's hand.

"Ow! Hey hey hey!" Joker exclaimed, clutching his hand and jumping backwards. He dropped what he was holding: several one-dollar bills floated to the ground, but then stirred by the wind, they floated into the air.

Robin caught one, and he looked at it. George Washington's face had been scribbled over in marker. He now had green hair and a huge red grin. Robin crumpled it. "What is this?"

"What is with you today, kid? Are you blind? Can't you see? I drew all over George Washington!"

"I can see that."

"I defaced money!"

"So?"

"That's a federal offense!"

Robin's shoulders almost sank.

"Well, I committed yet another crime," Joker said, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at the now smoldering rocks in front of him. "I guess you're going to have to bring me in, take me back to Arkham. But I should warn you, I'm not going without a fight!" A purple flower was pinned to the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. He touched it, and a long stream of liquid arced towards Robin.

Robin blocked it with his cape, but it didn't fizzle or smoke. He looked at it curiously, then touched it with his glove. He held his fingers up to his nose.

It was seltzer water.

"Well, it's been fun, but it's time to split!" Joker said. He took a step, but the waves crashing over the beach made the rocks slick. His feet slipped and slid as if he was doing the twist, then he did a full somersault in the air and landed in the splits. His eyes rolled back in his head as he made gurgling noises, and he fell over.

"That…was quite the trip," he muttered, rubbing his head. _Crack_! Suddenly it smacked the ground again, throbbed, and Robin stood on his chest. Robin pointed the staff at his throat. "You think you have me, Boy Blunder, but I still have one more trick up my sleeve! You will come under my spell, be my loyal servant, once you succumb to my hypno-bowtie!" The bowtie, the pink one with purple polka dots—which clashed horribly with the blue and yellow Hawaiian shirt—started to spin, twirling slowly like a pinwheel. Joker laughed, Robin's fist brought the comedy to an abrupt stop. The next moment the Joker was on his feet, jerked up by his collar, and Robin was handcuffing his hands behind his back.

"Aw, shucks, it looks like I'm foiled again. Oh well, you know how it goes. I'll get you one of these days and your little dog too, blah blah blah. Maybe we can make it back to Arkham in time for tea."

Robin growled, and he spun Joker around, clutching him by the collar. He pulled the clown's face to his, and the Joker squinted, contorted his expression as tiny flecks of spit struck his cheeks. "I don't know what you're planning, Joker, but I know you're up to something. I know it! And I swear to God, if you hurt anybody on this island—_anybody_—I will hurt you. You think Batman's given you beatings? It'll be nothing like the hell I will put you through."

"Jeeze, the news is right. Kids _are_ more violent these days."

Robin's fist jerked backwards, ready to shoot forward with the force of a missile. But when Robin tried to strike the blow, his fist wouldn't move. His wrist was caught on something. He looked back, and he saw it was Starfire's hand.

"Robin, don't," she said. "You've caught him. It's okay."

The Joker's shirt tightened around his fingers, but then he felt them pried away. It was Cyborg and Beast Boy. They took Joker by the shoulders and marched him towards Titans Tower. As they went, Beast Boy kept glancing back at him, at Robin, like he didn't recognize the boy anymore. Cyborg was focused on business, and Raven floated ahead without saying anything.

Starfire—Kory—stayed with him.

"He's up to something," Robin said.

"You shouldn't let him get to you."

"He comes out here, and he acts like a fool. It's a plot. He's trying to get us to drop our guard so he can do something really terrible."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Dick and I had a talk about him once. Dick explained to me that one of the reasons Joker is so hard to predict is that he seems to reinvent his personality daily. One day he may be the homicidal madman…the next he's just an obnoxious prankster, a jester."

"He's not a prankster. It's an act."

"Regardless, you fell for it."

"What?"

"You let him get under your skin."

With that, Starfire flew back towards the tower, leaving Robin standing on the shore, the waves lapping at his feet. He stared out across the bay, watched the water ripple across the surface. He wrapped his cape around his shoulders, and he sighed.


	5. This is the Bogeyman?

Issue #5 – _This Is the Bogeyman? _

"So this is him?" Kid Flash asked, approaching the bars like a small child approaching the lion's cage at the circus. It was almost painful to move so slowly, but after everything he had heard, everything he had read…it was like approaching death itself.

"He's a lot smaller than I thought he'd be," Superboy said. "Whenever Superman or Robin talk about him, they make him sound so big. I guess because what he does is so much larger than life."

"Why thank you!" Joker said. "It's always nice to find fans." He took a step forward, but tripped over his own sandals. He stumbled for a moment, then he crashed into the bars with a loud clang. "Oh my, I must be big on vacations. That was my second trip today! Ha-ha!"

Superboy and Kid Flash both sighed and rolled their eyes. They turned their backs to the Clown Prince of Crime and started to walk away.

"Hey, come back!" he called. "Don't you wanna hear a joke? What do you call a bass vocalist who sings by himself? Eh? So-low, get it? Ha ha ha!"

"Nobody ever mentioned how obnoxious he is," Superboy muttered as they walked out of the room. The door closed behind him.

"Yeah. He's not really anything like the books or Robin made him out to be. Did you know there's eight books written just about the incident with the joker fish and almost ten on the time he poisoned Gotham's reservoir? And despite all the things he's done, all the times he's been captured, all the psychologists who have tried to analyze him—we know _nothing _about him, really. His motivations. His origin. His real name."

"You know, I bet Batman knows everything about him. I bet he knows it all."

"Really?"

"Really. How couldn't he? He's the Batman. They've been at each others throats for years. I bet he knows everything about that clown, but he keeps it locked up in his computer not telling anybody."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's Batman."

Kid Flash chuckled. He remembered an inside joke they had shared a few weeks before. "Why does he drink milk straight out of the carton?"

"Because he's Batman," Superboy snickered.

"And why does he never change the toilet paper roll?"

"Because he's the damn Batman, bitch!"

This was definitely one joke they never shared with Tim.

Tim was with the rest of the Titans in the lounge discussing the situation. Kid Flash and Superboy, overcome by curiosity and not having much input, just couldn't miss out on a chance to meet a real legend. After everything they had been through, there were few things which truly awed them, and they thought this would be one of them. But like kids who peek too early on Christmas, they were disappointed. It turned out the bogeyman really was just a clown after all.

In front of them, at the end of the hallway, the door opened. Robin stepped through, looking as glum as ever.

"Hey!" Kid Flash said.

Robin didn't say anything back. He just pushed past them.

"What did we decide about the Joker?"

Robin stopped. "Cyborg is on the line to Arkham. We're setting everything up, and we're going to transfer the prisoner as soon as possible."

"All right!" Superboy exclaimed. "Road trip!"

"And to Arkham too," Kid Flash chimed. "I bet that place is _too_ creepy. Did you know its founder, Amadeus Arkham once—"

"You're not going," Robin interrupted. "By _we_ I meant Cyborg and myself. You guys will stay here."

"What?" Kid Flash exclaimed.

"Oh, great, so you're leaving 'the kids' at the tower again?" Superboy muttered. "Look, _Robin_, we saw you out there with the Joker. You were wrong. You were overly cautious. We should have been out there helping you."

"You don't understand."

"Oh, no, I understand you _perfectly_, Tim. You do this every time you have a problem, whether it's the Joker, your dad, or even Spoiler! You haven't even mentioned her—it's like she never existed! You always do this. Anytime something comes up, instead of just talking about it like you know you can, you keep it bottled up. You try to face it alone. No matter how many times we prove we're there for you, you _always _put up that wall and make us climb over it to get to you." Superboy growled, and his fist plowed into the wall, sending ripples down the hallway. Kid Flash stepped back in awe. "You don't know how frustrating it is to put up with you, Tim! It's like nothing we do ever really matters because you always keep us at a distance. You can't do everything alone. You should know that better than anyone. The whole reason you're Robin is because you knew Batman couldn't do it alone. And he's Batman! I don't know what makes you think you can."

A vein in Superboy's forehead throbbed. His face had turned red. His shoulders heaved, but the whole time Robin just stood there, cold, unmoving like a statue.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

Robin may have blinked. But, again, beneath the mask, it was hard to tell.

"God!" Superboy stomped off, muttering expletives the whole way.

Kid Flash watched him go. At least Conner hadn't stomped holes in the floor this time.

"Well," Robin said, drawing Kid Flash's attention. "Are you going to fly off the handle on me too?"

Kid Flash shook his head. He walked up to Robin and punched him in the shoulder. Another sign of fraternal affection. "You're never alone, man. When you need us the most, we'll be there."

Robin watched him walk down the hallway. He watched the door close behind Bart. Then he stopped a sigh. It hurt having Conner mad at him, but not as much as having Conner understand him. Or Bart for that matter. _I put up the wall for a reason._ He thought of his dad. And Captain Boomerang. He thought of Steph. And the Black Mask. _It keeps everyone from getting hurt_.

He turned back to the door that led to the Joker's cell. The clown was still up to something, and Robin refused to let him out of sight until he was locked up in Arkham.

Through the door, Robin could hear Joker singing, horribly, in the key of a cat dying:

_With their superpowers, they uniiiiite! Never met a villain that they liiiiiiiked. They've got the bad guys on the run. They never stop 'til the job gets done. Because when the world is losing all controooool…Teen Titans, Go!_

Robin rolled his eyes. "To think I always thought Maxie Zeuss was our most obnoxious villain…."


	6. Gotcha!

Issue #6 – _Gotcha_

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Robin asked.

"It only takes ten minutes to get to Gotham in the T-Jet," Cyborg replied.

"The sooner he's behind glass, the sooner I'll feel better."

"Me too. This is the longest ten minutes of my life. No wonder he turned to a life of crime. His material as a comedian is terrible."

Starfire and Beast Boy had led Joker down the corridor to the T-Jet, Cyborg, Robin, and Raven keeping guard on him as well. The rest of the Titans had tagged along too, curious in case there would be action. But there was no action. Joker had persisted to tell joke after joke, each one worse than the last, until Starfire finally asked, "May I please explode his voice box? One short blast to the throat should do it."

"Oh come on. The one about the priest and the penguin, that one wasn't so bad," Beast Boy said.

"Leave it to you to find scatological animal humor funny," Raven teased.

"Hey, it's more fun than a barrel of monkeys." Beast Boy's skin stretched, his frame became bulkier, and suddenly he was a gorilla.

Raven covered her mouth to suppress a chuckle. He was so cute sometimes.

"Titans! Focus!" Robin barked.

Beast Boy immediately reverted back to human form, but he looked back at Wonder Girl, Superboy, and Kid Flash standing on the ramp. He rolled his eyes.

They rolled theirs back.

"I'll be glad when Joker's back in Arkham," Superboy muttered. "That way Robin will chill the hell out."

"Me too," Wonder Girl and Kid Flash echoed. Then Kid Flash added, "If he chills out…"

After Joker was loaded, Robin and Cyborg boarded, and then they were off. They had only been off the ground for a minute, and Joker had already shot through three jokes, laughing hysterically at himself. Robin sat across from him, arms crossed, unflinching. The laughter bounced off him like rain drops on an umbrella.

"Did you ever hear this one, kid? A lady walks into a butcher shop complaining about some hot dogs she had just bought. 'The middle is meat,' she said, 'but the ends are sawdust!' 'Well,' the butcher replied, 'these days it's hard to make ends meat!'" He clutched his sides through the straight jacket and howled with laughter.

Robin refolded his arms. He still had himself on full alert, but by now, Joker's routine was starting to wear on even him. One time while fighting Poison Ivy, she had covered him in poison oak. Everywhere. He had scratched for a full week, even been scolded by a teacher for 'adjusting himself' in class. Looking back, it seemed much less irritating than this.

"Okay, okay, how about this one. Two girls go to this costume party, right? Both dressed as Betty Boop. When they see each other, they get very angry, because they can't stand the thought of someone else wearing the same costume. They start feuding, and one of them grabs the other's name tag and changes it so it reads, 'Betty Bop.' The second immediately did the same, and thus they were both wearing the same wrong name tag and were angrier than ever.

"Suddenly, there was a moan. Oooowwwwoooo! And a ghost appeared to them, also dressed as Betty Boop. It moaned, "Bewaarrre! Bewarrre, mortals! I was once such as you, but through my pettiness and wrath I came to this! Oooo! Beware, lest ye too suffer my grim fate! Beware!" But the two girls, being pigheaded as women are, ignored the ghost and kept feuding.

"Things continued along these lines until there was a scat-singing contest. When it was the first girl's turn, she did an amazing, a spectacular, an astounding job, so much so that the audience insisted on an encore! This made the second girl snap, and she was so mad she snuck up onto the bandstand and slipped a big bomb into the bass drum. But being a rank amateur, she overestimated the length of the song, and it ended before she could get away. The drummer hit the bass drum, the bomb went off, and both the girls and several innocent bystanders were horribly killed!"

The Joker started to chuckle. "And the moral of the story is: Bop, Bop, Boo-Bop: She Bopped, Bam, Boom!" The Joker clutched his sides again, and this time he howled so loudly that he rolled backwards on the floor, kicking his feet on the ground in a hysterical fit. His sandals flew into the air and struck him in the face.

When the laughter finally subsided, he had tears in his eyes, which streamed down his face. He struggled with the straight jacket, but finally forced himself up. "You're not laughing." He frowned. "Are you all right?"

Robin didn't flinch.

"The silent treatment? I understand. You picked that up from Bats. But you used to be so chatty. So carefree. You used to smile. What happened?"

"Shut up," Robin muttered.

"Why are you not happy?"

"I said shut up!" He struck the bars of Joker's cell with his staff, and Joker stepped back. He did as he was told and finally shut up.

"I don't know what you did back there," Cyborg called. "But thanks! By the way, we're now arriving in the beautiful and dismal Gotham City. Next stop, Arkham Asylum."

"Oh, goody," Joker sighed. "Home sweet Hell."

The T-Jet lowered, and it shook slightly as it came to a standstill. Cyborg rose from the driver's seat, and he stretched his arms. "The guards are expecting us. I'll go down and meet them. Can you handle bringing him out?"

Robin nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it."

"Alright. Good."

Cyborg hit a button, a ramp lowered, and he stepped outside. The smell of cool country air floated into the ship and struck Robin's nose. He thought of fishing, and the river, and camping trips with his dad.

Robin said nothing as he opened Joker's cell and guided the man down the ramp. But that didn't stop the Joker from talking.

"Say, kid, have you ever heard of Cesar Romero?…no? Well, I guess he _was_ before your time. Most of what he did was complete shlock, but there was this one TV show in the 1960s where he was just dee-lightful. It was a good show too, I think you would have liked it. But on the show, he played a villain, and every time he showed up, he had some kind of wacky scheme with some goofy goal to aggravate the heroes. It was all rather pointless and silly, but as the wee Joker lad I was, it had me rolling on the floor splitting my pants with laughter! I must say, if that show had been on the air for only a year longer, instead of being a comedian, he might have inspired me to become an actor…."

Robin looked up, and he saw Cyborg standing next to two guards. It all happened in an instant, within the blink of an eye, but the guards reached for their guns. But before they could even undo the holsters, there was a crackle, an a streak of electricity arced through the air and struck Cyborg in the back. He screamed, his body glowing blue, and then he started to smoke. He collapsed to the ground. His face turned towards Robin. The red eye, the one on the mechanical side of his face, it flickered then went out.

"Cyborg!" Robin called.

"It's a good thing I didn't become an actor, though I must say I'm impressed," Joker said. "You saw through the act the whole time. A hypnotic bowtie! Ha! That _is_ bonkers—even for the Joker!"

A rumble started in Joker's throat, the beginnings of a chuckle. The guards almost had their guns out, but before they could turn off the safeties, two darts sailed through the air, one striking each of the men in the throat. They clutched at their necks, then they stiffened. Their faces stretched into hideous smiles, like they were masks carved from wood, and then they started to laugh. They collapsed to the ground next to Cyborg, laughing. Kicking. Twitching.

Robin shoved Joker down, and he raced down the ramp, drawing his staff. Stopping at the bottom, he cursed himself, because it should have been so obvious. The face he stared into was pale. The costume was red and black like a court jester's. She smiled.

"Hey there, junior Batman! I'm so glad you could come out and play."

"Harley Quinn," Robin muttered.

"That's the name! Don't wear it out, because I don't know where I'd steal a new one. All the good ones are taken." She squealed, and she stood on her tiptoes, waving behind Robin. "Puddin'! There you are! How was San Francisco? Did you bring me anything?"

"Just a new pet bird," Joker sneered, and he lunged, wrapping his arms around Robin, pinning Robin's arms to his side. "Did you really think a straight jacket could hold me? I sleep in these things when the fire goes out in winter!"

Robin flexed his muscles, managed to get his feet on the ground. He crouched, tried to shoot himself into the air and out of Joker's grip. But Joker held on, pulled him back down, and held him up so his legs were mostly useless. He was strong. Why was he so strong? Robin strained again, but again nothing. He kicked at the Joker, and Joker sidestepped. Robin's fingers grazed his utility belt. He was so close. He had been in worse situations. He could handle this.

Then he heard the crackle of electricity.

Harley had produced something that resembled a tazer, only the metal prongs were about six inches long, and the electric arc leapt through the air upon reaching the top.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Har!" Joker laughed. "Turn that thing down some! We stole that from Lex Corps's military division. It's designed to take out tanks and fellows like the Tin Man over there. There's no telling what that'll do to bird boy at full power!"

"Oh, good thinkin', Mistah J!" Harley reached for the knob, and she turned it down. One single click.

"That's a girl!"

Robin struggled harder, but now Joker's arm slipped over his throat. He was losing oxygen. Harley held out the tazer.

"This is going to hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me, kid!"

The last thing Robin saw was the metal prongs reaching for his throat. Then everything went black. BZZZAAAT!


	7. The Doctor is In

Issue #7 – _The Doctor is In_

Robin awoke to a thousand jackhammers pounding on his brain. He placed a hand on his head, and his eyes blinked the world back into view. A shiver went through his body, but he felt too groggy to react to it. He thought he heard his dad shaking him as he pulled the covers over his head. _"Tim? Tim! It's time to get up!"_

"The Joker!" Robin exclaimed, sitting up and snapping out of the dream. He jerked up so fast that he slammed his back against the steel bars. His heart raced for a moment, but then he took two deep breaths, and he forced it back under control. Be calm. Be cool. You can handle this. He was in a cage, about two yards by two yards, and just tall enough he could stand. On pure instinct, he went to the door, and he felt the lock. It was small, though, and there was nothing he could do with his fingers. He shivered again, and he looked down. His chest was bare, as were his legs and feet. The Joker had stripped him of his costume, all of his equipment, and left him in just a pair of briefs.

Joker had spray painted smiley faces on them though.

Robin gasped. "My mask!" His hands flew to his face, and they felt the familiar material beneath their tips. Robin almost sighed with relief, but then a shiver of fear crept down his spine. The Joker had probably stripped him outside Arkham, removing all of his methods of escape, and the global positioning unit stored in his utility belt. But he had left the mask. Joker didn't have any interest in Robin's identity, just making sure he couldn't escape and that nobody could find him.

Robin stopped his thoughts right there. He didn't need to know what Joker had planned.

Sucking on his lip, Robin looked around the room. It was mostly empty, dark and dank, like some kind of dungeon. It was the basement of a warehouse, most likely. There was a couch not far away, and in the corner were a set of stairs leading to a door. Water dripped on the floor from a leaking pipe in the ceiling.

Not really much to work with. Not really any chance for escape.

Robin sat down in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to hold in as much warmth as possible. The bars were too solid to break. Picking the lock was out of the question. There was nothing on his body to use…

Suddenly he was struck with an idea. Robin picked at his finger, and he pried off a piece of his fingernail. He jammed it into the lock, concentrating, trying to use it as a pick. But it was too flimsy. It folded and broke, much like Robin had suspected it would.

Robin sat back down again. He would just have to wait. The Joker loved to talk. He was often careless. He would slip up, and then there would be a chance. _I may only get one_, Robin thought. _So I'll have to make it count. _

Just then the lights came on. The light was blinding, after being in the dark for so long, and Robin's eyes watered behind the mask. When the world finally came back into focus, the Joker appeared at the top of the stairs. He wore his usual purple suit, and carried a cane with a stylized version of his head at the end of the handle. Typical super villain vanity. "Well, well, well! Good morning, sleepy-head! You've missed all the cartoons, but at least you're up in time for lunch!"

Robin glared at him.

"Still not talking are we?" Joker descended the stairs. "Well, we're going to change all that. Yes, we are. Do you know why I've brought you here?"

Robin watched him walk across the floor until he was only a foot from the cage. Joker smiled, amused like Robin was a monkey at the zoo.

"Believe it or not, I've brought you here to help you, Robin."

"I don't need any help from you."

"Oh, but I think you do. See, while I'm a world renowned criminal mastermind, I'm a comedian first. It's my primary responsibility to make people smile. And you, Robin, I've noticed that recently you've lost your smile. You're always frowning, never laughing. You seem to always be brooding. Quite frankly, you're turning into a regular Batman."

"I'm not Batman."

"Not yet. If anybody would know that, it's me. But you're getting there. And believe me, while I love old Bats from the bottom of my cold black heart, one of him is more than enough. We don't need Batman-Lite running around too. Not to mention it would just be confusing too. So for the sake of simplicity, and in the spirit of service, I've brought you here. We're going to work out your hang ups. We're going to divert your disastrous life path. Through my extensive sessions, we're going to turn that frown upside down." The Joker paused, smiling to reveal his teeth, and he aimed the cane at Robin's chest. "Even if it kills you."

_Pfft_. A small dart shot out from the cane's tip, and it struck Robin on his left breast. He yanked the dart out and threw it at the Joker who chuckled while easily sidestepping it. Robin's knees buckled. He collapsed to the floor, and his body suddenly felt light.

"What did you do?" he gasped.

"Oh, relax. It's just a small muscle relaxer. You'll still be conscious, but your arms and legs will be about as useful as cream corn in a doughnut factory." Joker reached into his pocket, and he pulled out a key. He walked up to the door. "I'm not as spry as I was in my younger days. I don't want you kicking and punching your way out of the treatment until you have a clean bill of health."

Robin tried to lift himself up. But his arms couldn't support the weight, and his chin crashed to the floor. Joker's hand slid inside the cage like a snake, and his fingers wrapped around Robin's hair. "Time for your appointment!" Robin bit his lip, holding back his exclamation as his scalp cried out in pain. He hit the floor with a thud, and he bounced and rolled as Joker dragged him towards the couch. Another hard tug, and Joker threw him on the sofa. "Just relax," Joker said, raising the cane. "The doctor will be with you in just a moment." The cane came down hard—_Smack!_—across Robin's stomach. The wind left his body. He coughed and choked, trying to pull oxygen back into his lungs.

It was hard with his muscles feeling like mush. His arms wouldn't move. He couldn't even lift his fingers. But still, the Joker chained him to the couch. Robin tried to ball his hand into a fist. He wanted to knock the Joker's teeth down his throat. Robin took a breath. He tried to meditate, tried to send his mind elsewhere.

"Oh good!" Joker clapped his hands. "The doctor is ready. You're in great fortunes, bird boy, because you happen to have one of the best psychotherapists in the business. She worked wonders for me, let me tell you. Allow me to present the one and only Dr. Harleen Quinzel!"

Joker gave a standing ovation as Harley Quinn appeared, still in her usual getup, only now wearing a doctor's cloak over it. She carried a clipboard and sported a pair of reading classes too. "That's for the referral, Mistah J.!"

"Anytime, Har!" He pulled up a chair, and she sat down.

She stared down at the clipboard and mumbled. "Let's see…Boy Wonder…Batman's sidekick…chronic grumpiness…So, Mr. Wonder, what seems to be the trouble?" She crossed her legs and smacked on a piece of chewing gum.

Robin still tried to move his fingers. They almost twitched.

"Well, alright, I guess we'll just have to figure it out. Peel back those layers of that pesky psyche, am I right? I've always liked Freudian theory, and Mistah J. and I are seventy-eight percent certain you're a teenaged boy, so let's start with something you'll be interested in. What's your opinion on sex?"

Robin stopped struggling. Only for a moment. Her words like a car crash. He didn't want to listen, but part of him was curious where this was going.

"Surely a cute kid like you, you've had some experience with the girls before, right?"

"And surely Bats has given you some pointers," Joker added. "I've heard when he's not romping through Catwoman's litter box, he's showing Al Ghul's daughter the Bat-pole."

"Puddin', please, Mama's tryin' to work her magic."

"Sorry, hon."

"So I know you're young, but it's a modern world. You can tell us if you've ever had some experiences before. Surely there was at least one lucky girl in your life, right?"

Robin bit his lip.

"Perhaps," Joker smiled, "a lucky girl Robin?"

Robin's breath caught in his throat. Did they know? How could they know?

"Ooh, looks like we hit a nail right on the head!" Joker exclaimed, clapping his hands. "I just had a hunch. You put too hormonal brats in skintight outfits together, and you're just askin' for trouble, I always say."

"So tell me about the girl Robin," Harley said, chewing on the end of her pen. "Was she sensitive? Did she listen to you? Did she attend to your needs?"

A memory floated to the surface of Robin's brain:

_Her hands ran through his hair. Hers fell over his fingers. It felt so soft. Smelled so good. Why did she always smell so good? _

_Focus, Tim. Their lips were locked together, kissing passionately, sitting on the edge of his bed. Electricity shot through his body as he felt her hands slide under his shirt and rest on his sides. Her skin against his—wow. He couldn't describe it. He slid his hands under her clothes as well, mimicking her motions. _

_Then she sat back, and she pulled his t-shirt over his head. _

"_Uh, Steph, I—"_

"_Shh. It's okay."_

"_No, I mean, yeah, it is. I just…I haven't…I've never done this, or anything…I've never done anything with a girl before."_

_She smiled. "We'll go slowly. I won't throw you into the deep end all at once. She embraced him, and they started kissing again. _

"Oh, I guess I should have told you," Joker said. "Silly me, always forgetting. That drug I gave you, it's also a mild hallucinogen. You're actually going to relive all the things we talk about today!"

"So tell me," Harley continued, "tell me about the first time you were together. Or the first time you saw her. Ooh! Or the first time you knew you liked her. Or how about when she told you she was going to be Robin?"

"Or how about," Joker chuckled. "How about you tell us how you felt when you heard that Black Mask had pounded her pretty little face into a pretty little pulp?"

Robin's body shook. It was just a sigh. He held most of it back. Most of it. But with the drugs affecting his body, and his mind in the moment, the moment when they told him that…that she'd… No. He bit his lip. _I'm not going to give them the satisfaction_. He made his body stiff, rigid, reinforced his wall.

"I find that a lot of our patients' problems begin in childhood," Harley continued.

"I know mine did. Oh, how I miss being a little tyke!" Joker added.

"Why don't you tell us about your parents. Were they distant?"

_No. But…_

Another memory came back. He was little, but old enough that he realized what was going on. His mom was there. She was still alive. Dad looked a lot younger. They were outside the boarding school, and Mom was giving him a kiss on the forehead.

"_Be good," she said._

_He nodded. "I will."_

"_We love you," she said. And Dad nodded in agreement. Then they started to walk away. He stood there, not moving, not even puckering his lip. But he wanted to run to them. He wanted to latch onto Mom's leg, beg her to stay, beg Dad not to go. _

_Please don't leave me alone, he'd thought. I don't want to be on my own. _

_He watched them go. _

_Then he looked up at the school. I have to take care of myself now. Nobody else is going to look out for me._

"Tell me about your mother. Is she pretty? Was she nice?" Harley asked.

"Is she dead?" Joker asked.

"_Tim, there was an…an incident… Your mother and father were captured by the Obeah Man…"_

"…_poisoned…"_

"_Your mother…she didn't make it, Tim." _

"How about Daddy? Was he ever around?" Harley chewed on her pen. "You know, I bet being Robin is a hard job. Were _you_ ever around for _him_?"

"_I'm sorry, Dad. I can't go camping this weekend."_

"_What? But we've had this planned for a month."_

"_I know. It's just, you know, the science team is competing at the state competition. I have to go. Those water rockets won't launch themselves."_

_Dad had hung his head, sighing slightly. But then he looked up, smiled, and he just had this glow in his eyes. Part of it was disappointment. But another part of it was happy. He was proud. He just looked so proud of his son. _

"_I understand, son. You're just trying to be all you can be. Good luck at the competition. I know you'll do fine."_

"_Thanks, Dad."_

_That was the weekend Two Face held the mayor's reelection gala hostage. _

"Did he ever tell you he loved you?" Harley asked. "Or was he distant?"

"Or," Joker said, "is he dead too?"

"_Tim, there was an incident…"_

"…_Captain Boomerang…"_

"…_they killed each other."_

Another image came to his mind. It was about a week after it had happened. He stood in front of the gravestone, just staring at it, not shivering as the cool breeze flapped his jacket.

"_Hey, Dad," he whispered. "Heh. God, I must be losing it. I'm talking to ghosts. Maybe I am losing it. I'm not really doing well, not at all. I hide it. Nobody knows. Just like nobody really knew how bad I was when Mom died. Well, I guess Bruce and Dick knew…and Alfred. Alfred definitely. And they probably know now, but they know to give me my space. It's just…I'm so used to working through things, but I don't know how I'll work through this. After Mom died and you were in the coma, I dealt with it. I got used to it. But then you came back, and it was like…God, I can't describe what it's like to have your family given back to you after you thought it was gone for good. I know we didn't get much time together, but your coming back and your actually being around this time…I think those might be the best years of my life. I'm sorry. I know I'm rambling, and I usually don't talk this much—ever—but…I adjusted to you and Mom being gone once. And then you came back. I don't know if I can adjust to you being gone again. And this time you're not coming back. I don't mean to blame you, but you're part of why I keep people away. It always hurts when they leave, you know? It always hurts when you leave."_

Robin set his face in stone. His mouth didn't even twitch, but he was glad for the mask. He didn't think he could deny his eyes. But somehow, somehow the Joker still knew.

Joker laughed like a child tearing wings from a fly.

"Tell us about your father," Dr. Harley continued. "Was it difficult growing up with him?"

"Yeah," Joker asked, "was it difficult growing up with a father like Batman?"

"Batman's not my father," Robin snapped.

"Oh, and they say I'm delusional. No father in his right mind would let his kid dress up in tights and jump over the rooftops, risking his life in struggles with loonies like me and Poison Ivy."

"She's a good lady!" Harley chimed.

"Clearly your father," Joker continued, "is either dead or he didn't care about you. Or maybe you didn't care and deserted him. Either way, the Batman has you. Your life isn't yours anymore. He's put you in a cape and a mask, and he's molding you into his twisted image. He puts your _lives_ in danger. One time I heard him mutter to the first one, the first Robin—'Good soldier.' 'Good soldier'! He thinks of you as soldiers, not as people, not as kids, just more meat to sacrifice to whatever reason he has for dressing up like a giant bat and terrorizing the good folks of Gotham."

"You're one to talk," Robin spat. "You dress like a clown and kill people."

Joker shrugged. "At least I'm honest about what I do."


	8. Heart Beats

Issue #8 – _Heart Beats _

On the Gotham City rooftop, the wind pushing his T-shirt against his body, Superboy stood between Wonder Girl and Raven. Starfire, Kid Flash, and Beast Boy stood not far away. Cyborg had been taken back to the tower to repair himself and to keep watch in case something came over the scanner. They had just arrived, but the second they waited felt like an hour. They had been summoned by the Batman. Now where was he?

Superboy stared off across the horizon, through the buildings, the clouds and smog, towards the night sky. The stars seemed infinite as they twinkled up there. It was beautiful, but it felt cold and lonely, being one so small staring at something so vast.

Alone. That's what Tim was right now.

Superboy clenched his fist. Immediately, Wonder Girl's hand fell on it. It broke some of his anger, and he let the soft fingers slip inside his.

"We'll find him," she said.

"Not by standing around. Why are just standing around? We should be doing something."

"It is never wise to rush in without a plan. But if you are earnest, instead of wasting time feeling angry, you could be using the tools you have—the X-ray vision, the super hearing—to locate Robin." The voice sounded like the iceberg that sank the Titanic. There was the flapping of a cape, and Superboy looked up. There stood Batman, and behind him the rest of the Bat family. Nightwing. Batgirl. Even Catwoman was here.

_How do they do that? _Superboy wondered. He had never heard them.

Nightwing stepped to the middle of the groups. "Superboy and Batman are right. Every second we delay is a second too long. I want you each to take one of these." He opened up his hand, and in his palm were tiny button shaped objects. "They go in your ear. There's a microphone attached. It puts you in direct contact with the Oracle who will be coordinating our search across the city."

"Wow! _The _Oracle?" Kid Flash said, taking a communicator and sticking it in his ear. "I've heard Robin and Wally mention her, but I thought she might be an urban legend, some kind of inside joke. There's _nothing _documented about her."

A voice whirred in his ear. "Actually, Bart, there are plenty of stories about me. One's on the front page of today's _Gotham Gazette_. You just don't realize it's me they're talking about."

"We're going to split into teams," Batman said, stepping up beside Nightwing. "Each team will be responsible for a different section of the city. If you find anything—_anything_—about Robin, the Joker, or Harley Quinn, relay it to the Oracle. If you find them, notify us immediately. Do not try to apprehend the Joker. Wait for backup."

Kid Flash nudged Superboy. "You know who Batman really reminds me of? My gym teacher. They're both big and have this stare that's super intense and…"

Batman's hand fell on the boy's shoulder. Kid Flash almost yelped. "Does everyone understand me?"

Kid Flash nodded. "Y-yes, sir."

Batman stepped back, and he let Nightwing have the floor. Superboy listened to Nightwing, paid attention as the man gave them a crash course in interrogation and signs to look for, but his eyes roamed back to Batman. Batman had let Catwoman rest a hand on his shoulder as he stared off the edge of the building. The cape whipped around him, but he didn't move. He didn't even look like he was breathing.

Nightwing divided them into teams. He and Starfire would take the East side. Batman and Catwoman would take the North. Batgirl and Raven had West. Kid Flash and Superboy had South. And Wonder Girl and Beast Boy would search central. They broke, and capes rustled as several dark figures leapt off the side of the building.

Superboy stopped at the edge of the building to watch them go.

Kid Flash grabbed Superboy's hand so he could float him down to the sidewalk. "What's the matter?" Kid Flash asked. "You suddenly got quiet. I thought you were all gung ho to find Robin."

"I am," Superboy said distantly. He lifted them into the air. "I just…I just realized how much danger he could be in."

"Tim's smart. And good. Batman and Nightwing put him through the ringer. He can take care of himself."

"I know."

"Then just relax and bathe this city in some X-ray vision. We'll have Tim back at the tower and eating ice cream before _Most Extreme Elimination Challenge_ comes on."

Kid Flash let go, and as soon as his feet touched ground, he vanished from sight. Papers and trash rustled in the wind kicked up by him.

Superboy bit his lip. "Get a hold of yourself, Conner." But it was hard. Nightwing's voice had sounded so calm, so authoritative—but his heart had been beating so fast. It was like a drum roll in Superboy's ear. And Batman's…Batman's had skipped a beat too.

Batman's heart wasn't supposed to skip beats.

"I swear I'll find you, Tim." More papers rustled as Superboy shot into the sky.


	9. Be Batman

Issue #9 – _Be Batman_

_It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. It's a small world after all. _

And so on.

Robin's brain throbbed. The first therapy session had ended hours ago. How many he wasn't certain. His eyes felt heavy and weak in the total darkness, but Harley had propped a giant speaker next to the cage—it blasted "It's a Small World" on an endless loop.

"I've always found music affects my mood," Joker explained. "For instance, when I hear Bob Dylan I'm a sociopath, but Chuck Berry puts me more in a psychopathic mood. But being a teenager, you probably listen to your Kyle Kobains and your Charlie Manson, where it's all angst, angst, angst."

"Actually," Robin said. "I've always been a Tom Petty kind of guy."

"See! You're already getting into it! Quipping and jawing like that. Keep it up! But we're really going to stretch that grin until you can't stand it!"

And then the music started. Of course, it was the version of "It's a Small World" everyone knows. The one from the theme park, with the high pitched voices that drone on endlessly. When Tim was little, his mom and dad had taken him there. Back then the animatronic children had been creepy, like a hundred homicidal puppets. That was several years before he met Scarface.

And then the song looped. Robin had lost count of number of times he had heard, "It's a small small, it's a small small world." It hadn't taken long for the words to become a dagger in his brain. About five minutes, actually. And that had to have been about, well, uh…Robin had no concept of time, but it had to have been at least five hours.

At least. Five long grueling hours. He ached from Joker's beating, his emotions were still fragile from the 'therapy.' He needed sleep. And even if the speaker wasn't blaring straight into his ear, there was always the matter of the homicidal maniac running around—dropping your guard and taking a nap wasn't a good idea.

Tim yawned. The song started over again. "I wonder how long it would take to make a noose out of my leg hair," he muttered.

_It's a small world after---ksssht! _ The music stopped, and the lights lit up one by one, burning Robin's eyes. He squinted, and through the colored spots, he saw Joker's grinning face.

"Good morning, dear boy. Aren't you going to chirp out a pretty song like a good robin?"

Robin watched him lower his head, hiding a smile as he took a step towards the cage. "I trust you slept well?"

Robin's hand tightened into a fist. That's it. Just a little closer.

"I see the therapy still hasn't loosened your tongue any."

Another step. He was right next to the cage. Robin lunged forward, throwing his fist through the bars, straight for Joker's face. The Joker bent backwards like he was doing the limbo. "Whoa, but I see we're still a little feisty!" He laughed. "That's good. That's what I like to see. That youthful spirit always bubbling so free. But you know what one of the problems with young people these days is? They don't have any good role models, nobody respectable to look up to."

Robin rolled backwards into a crouching position. The cage was small, but there was just enough room to leap out of the way of another dart. He couldn't dodge them forever, but he could at least make the Joker work for it. Maybe make him slip up.

"I think that may be one of your bigger problems," Joker said, pacing back and forth. "Look who you model yourself after—a man who dresses up in bat pajamas and prowls the city at night. That can't be healthy at all! What kind of role model is that? And he's always so solemn." Joker stuck two fingers beside his head to mimic bat ears. "'There's always something wrong in Gotham. Is anything ever right in this world? This bat-pole is too far up my bum for me to even crack a smile.' It's no wonder you're so depressed, Robby! You need to look up to someone a bit cheerier. Someone with better people skills." Joker gripped the bars of the cage, and he shoved his face against them. "Someone who…smiles." His teeth appeared like razor blades.

Robin started to lunge, but he felt a prick in his back, and he fell flat on his face. His head throbbed, and he rolled over to see Harley Quinn holding a blow gun.

"I got 'im, Mistah J.! First try too!"

"Wonderful, Har! You know, Robin, Harley here is a big fan of those extreme makeover TV shows."

"I stole the first season of _Trading Faces_ on DVD just yesterday!"

"And she's been dying to try out a few of the techniques she's learned." Joker reached into his pocket, and he pulled out the key. As he unlocked the door, Robin tried to push himself up, tried to lunge forward, but his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the cold steel again. Like before, Joker grabbed him by the hair and yanked him from the cage. Robin's shoulder crashed against the floor with a hard thud, throbbed, but before he could worry if it had been dislocated, he had been hoisted into the air again. This time it was by the waistband of his briefs. Harley covered her mouth to hide a giggle, but the Joker cackled as he carried Robin over to a table.

Robin tried to blank his mind. The pain was bearable. The humiliation, however, made him seethe.

Joker threw him onto the table, and Harley pushed a cart just into his field of vision. Joker pulled on a Hawaiian shirt and slicked his hair back, getting into character. He began to talk flamboyantly. "What ARE we goin' to do teday, Har?"

"We're going to make him handsome!" Harley exclaimed, and she dumped a bucket of white goo on Robin's bare chest. He almost winced. The cream felt like it had been kept in a freezer overnight. It was cold and sticky, and the two of them began to rub it over his body. His ribs ached from being struck with the cane the day before. Just below his throat, there was a burn wound from the tazer. They made sure to rub the cream in extra carefully there. Over his chest. Across his stomach. Along his arms and shoulders. Up his neck, into his mouth, into his nose. Jam it into his ears. Luckily the mask protected his eyes.

Harley began to rub it on his feet, cranking on each of his toes as Joker had done to his fingers. Over his shins, up his legs, up his thighs. Higher. Higher. Robin winced. Suddenly he felt sick. He thought of Stephanie, holding her on his bed.

"_Is this okay?"_

"_Shh, Tim, it's fine. You're doing fine."_

"Oh, be careful, Harley," Joker said. "I don't think any girls have touched him down _there_ before." He laughed, and Robin growled. He actually made his body hop on the table, but that was it. He had been trying to rip out Joker's eyes.

"There!" Harley said, stepping back to admire the work. "Not bad, but it's missing something."

"Oh, I know," Joker said. "But what? Hmm. I wonder if DaVinci ever had this problem…not knowing just what that something else his art needs…"

"I know!" Harley snapped her fingers. She reached back to the cart and pulled up a bucket. Robin recognized the smell. It was paint. They dumped it over Robin's forehead, and he saw droplets of it fall on the table. It was green.

"Oh, now he's starting to look real handsome," Harley said. "But he still needs something." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tube of lipstick. She pressed it against Robin's mouth, running it up his cheeks, almost to his ears. "There we go!"

Joker held up a mirror. "What do you think?"

His skin had been dyed white. His hair had been dyed green. And now a huge, ugly grin crossed his face.

Just like the Joker.

"Now you look like a real man!" Joker exclaimed.

After that, Joker decided it would be good to do some role-play. "It's always healthy to see things from someone else's perspective," he explained. He wrapped a piece of cloth over his shoulders and put a Lone Ranger mask over his eyes. "I'll be Robin," he said. "And you be the Joker!"

Robin's legs were still weak, so Harley Quinn propped him up. He tried to swing at her, but his arms just kind of swayed in the air.

"Holy flying doughnut holes, Batman!" Joker exclaimed. "The Joker, despite being devilishly handsome and hilarious, just killed another one of our partners! Let's get him!" Joker lunged forward and kicked Robin in the stomach. Robin doubled over, and Harley let him drop to the floor. "Oh no!" Joker exclaimed. "I think he has a gun!" Joker dove on him and started to pound on him. Lefts. Rights. Boots to the ribs. Stomps to the sternum. Robin coughed and gagged. He spat blood onto the floor.

"Whew," Joker said, wiping his face. "That was fun! Let's do another!" Harley propped Robin up again. "This time," he said, putting the cape over Robin's shoulders. "You be Robin, and I'll be the Joker."

He walked a few paces away, wiped his hands over his face to get into character, and then he turned to Robin. "Robin? Say, haven't I already killed you? Oh well, guess I'll just have to do it again until you learn to stay dead." The Joker leapt on him again. This time the beating was worse. Robin's nose cracked. Blood began to ooze into his mouth.

"That was splendid." Joker clapped his hands. "Ooh, let's do one more! Oh, I know! We'll let you live out your life long fantasy." Harley held Robin up again, and Joker sneered as he leaned down. He dragged his long fingernail over Robin's chest, drawing blood in places, scraping a line out of the paint. When he stepped back, he motioned to it. He had drawn a giant bat. "There. See. I'm letting you act out your fantasy. This time you get to be Batman!"

_But... _Robin thought, his mind becoming hazy. _But I don't want to be Batman_. He thought of how many times he had said it. Over and over. I'm not Batman. I won't be Batman. I'll never be like Batman. As the Joker pushed up his shirt sleeves, chuckling as he cracked his knuckles, Robin thought: I wish I were Batman. Batman would be able to handle this. Batman would have found a way out by now.

The Joker's fists pummeled him worse than ever. Even Harley joined in, putting a boot or eight into his ribs. When they finished, they picked up Robin like a slab of meet and threw him back into the cage. He lay there, bleeding, coughing as he tried to draw breath in a pool of his own blood. The Joker blasted "It's a Small World" again, but even though his eardrums throbbed, Robin still managed to pass out.


	10. Second Wind

Issue #10 – _Second Wind_

Nightwing perched on the gargoyle, and he sighed. "Oracle, come in. Has there been any progress from any of the teams?"

"No," she sighed into his ear. "This is the longest day of my life."

He nodded, though she couldn't see it. "I'm running out of places to look. Short of knocking down every door in Gotham, I'm not sure what to do next." He sighed again.

"We'll find him, Dick."

"But will we find him before…?" He stopped.

"What is it?

"I have to go. I have company." He felt the air move past his hair, but actually he had smelled her first. He would never forget her smell. "Kory," he said.

------

In the clock tower, Barbara slammed down the microphone and rolled her eyes. Always being blown off for another girl… "Why go for brains when you can go for alien cleavage?" she muttered.

------

"Dick," Starfire said. "Any luck?"

He shook his head.

She nodded. "You're hiding something from me." Her voice wasn't accusing. She merely stated the fact.

"What?" He turned to her, raising his eyebrow.

"You're being too quiet. There's something you're not telling me."

He stood up and motioned towards the city streets, so far below. "Tim is somewhere in this city trapped in the hands of a madman, a lunatic, who has hurt countless numbers of people. He crippled Barbara. I'm sorry, but I'm a little on edge because the longer we're out here, realistically, the more likely it is that we're going to find Tim…we're going to find him…" Nightwing bit his lip and turned away from her.

She walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Dick, I'm not stupid. I'm aware of just how much trouble Tim is in. And I understand how much you care about him. But you're forgetting how much I care about you. I've held you during some of your worst times. I can tell when you're not telling me the whole story."

His shoulders sank. For a moment he was silent. That's when she was certain she was right. He wrestled with whether to merely acknowledge it or to tell her, then he whispered, "We found something. Before we called you guys in, Bruce found something."

"What?"

"It was at the police station, tied to the Bat signal. It was a mannequin, strung up like it was crucified, and it was wearing Tim's costume. Joker had painted its hair and face into his likeness, and he had ripped part out of the chest, and nailed a cow's heart to it." Nightwing swallowed. "The heart had screws and nails sticking out of it. It had been cut open. And the dummy was missing both its hands."

Starfire gasped. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"We didn't want to upset the kids. I know they're giving 110 percent to find their friend, but I don't think they realize just how much danger he's in." He bit his lip again. "Damn it, Kory… If he's done anything to Tim, I'll…I'll…" He wrung his hands. "I can't stand to see someone else get hurt. He crippled Barbara. He killed Jason. The Black Mask killed Stephanie. I didn't get to know Stephanie or even Jason very well, but Tim…I was with Tim from the beginning. I'm part of the reason Bruce allowed him to be Robin. I was one of the first people he came to. I helped train him. I helped raise him some too." Nightwing chuckled. "He's the only person who talks to me about my days in the circus. If anything has happened to him, I swear…I swear I'm going to kill the Joker."

Starfire shook her head and laid her arms around Nightwing's neck. "No, you won't. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself."

"You're wrong. The guilt of killing the Joker would be _nothing _compared to the feeling of failing Tim." Nightwing shrugged her off and leapt off the side of the building. She walked to the edge, but when she looked down, he was gone.

-----

Catwoman watched as Batman leapt back to the rooftop. His gloves were splattered with the blood of two-bit hoods, and he didn't even bother to wipe it off. For a moment she thought of saying something, but then she thought better of it. Last time she had said it, about how he was crossing lines, he snapped at her. Still, she worried about him. He was working himself into a state. It wasn't good for him or the boy for Batman to be so intense.

"Any luck?" she asked.

He said nothing. Which was his way of saying no. He stalked to the end of the building. When he reached the edge, he looked back at her. "You would be more useful if you stopped following me and fanned out over the city." Then he vanished over the side.

Catwoman bit her lip. "Sometimes I wonder why I sleep with you."

-----

Later…

Wonder Girl rubbed her eyes and yawned. Her stomach rumbled, but still she kept going. Suddenly she felt a breeze push past her face. "Hey, Conner," she said.

Conner floated up beside her, cradling Kid Flash in his arms. "Hey, Cass," he sighed.

"What happened to him?" She pointed to Bart.

"I just found him in the park. He's asleep. He's been running nonstop all over Gotham since we got here. Didn't stop for a break or to eat or anything. He just kind of collapsed from exhaustion, I figure."

"Poor guy," she said, brushing Kid Flash's forehead. They had been searching for over a day and a half straight. "We can't give up."

"I know," Conner sighed. "But I've been over this city and over this city, every inch. I can't find anything. I'm starting to wonder if he's even in Gotham at all." He bit his lip and looked out across the skyline. With the super hearing, he heard a baby crying a mile away. "Cass, I'm scared."

"Conner, shh," she said, stroking his face. "Tim's tough. He's smarter than all of us put together. He was trained by the best. He'll be okay."

Conner shook his head. "I keep thinking about how he acted at the tower. And I didn't say anything then, but I noticed his heart. It actually started racing. He was scared of the Joker, Cass. And when they gave us the speech, Nightwing's heart was racing too. And Batman's skipped a beat. They're scared too. Nightwing and Batman are scared of the Joker. You know it has to be bad, real bad if they're scared. Batman doesn't get scared, Cass. He just doesn't." Conner swallowed hard. "Damn it, Tim's my best friend, and I can't find him. I just know if it were any one of us, Tim would have come up with a plan and saved us hours ago. But we can't do the same for him. And he's probably going through something awful, something so awful, that…"

"Superboy!"

"What?" Conner asked, looking up.

"I didn't say anything," Wonder Girl said. She tapped her ear. She had heard it too. It was the Oracle.

"Look," Oracle said. "I understand what you're going through. I'm going through the exact same thing. But you're going to have to pull yourselves together. I thought you were supposed to be Robin's friends."

"We are," he said.

"Then act like it. You know him better than this. Do you really think he would want you guys hanging around _worrying _about him?"

Superboy and Wonder Girl chuckled. "No, I suppose not."

"And though he would never, ever admit it, what does he always need you guys to do the most?"

"To be by his side, no matter what."

"Then go do that."

Superboy nodded. "Wake up, Bart," he said, tossing the boy up a little. "You just got your second wind."


	11. Letting Go

Issue #11 – _Letting Go_

When Robin came to, the world felt like a blur. Everything hurt. His chest, his back, his face. Everything felt stiff from the bruises. The paint and blood had dried and flaked off every time he drew a breath. When the world came back into focus, he realized he was sitting in a chair. His arm was stretched out in front of him, hanging in a sling. There were metal bars on its left and right. His arm was stuck, extended. He couldn't pull his hand through the bars. Without the sling, the only place for it to go was up or down.

He looked down. Beneath his arm at the bottom of the cage was a big red button.

"You know what I just realized?"

Robin looked up. The Joker sat in a recliner next to the cage.

"I just realized that during our role-play session, you didn't scream once." Joker stood up and walked in front of the cage. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those crazies who lives to here his victims scream. I mean, it's nice, but I could take it or leave it. But I gave you quite the whoopin'. I dealt you some psychological damage. And you haven't howled in pain once. Why not?"

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction." Robin spat. A gooey red loogie stuck in Joker's hair and dripped down his face.

Robin smirked.

Joker pulled out a handkerchief. It was tied to another, then another, until he pulled a chain of them from his pocket. Then he wiped himself down. "You really are a putz, do you know it, kid?"

Robin smirked. "Takes one to know one."

"You just don't get it!" Joker shouted. Something took over his face. Suddenly he looked angry. "Nobody gets it. Not you, and especially not Batman! None of this…" He held open his hands and spun around. "None of this—nothing is real! You think you're heroic and doing good deeds, but at the end of the day, where does all the crime fighting really get you? How long is it before another villain of the week shows up to wreak havoc in this miserable cesspool? Hell, after Batman throws me in Arkham for this how long do you really think it will be before I'm back prodding and torturing whatever fool kid he's manipulated into following him this time? You just don't get it. It's all one big game of make believe. One awful little picture book. All we do is run around and act a part so that some higher being can look down on us, smile or occasionally grimace, and then go on his merry way until he decides to see what our next wacky confrontation will be." The Joker clenched his fists. His shoulders heaved up and down as he sucked in breaths.

"You've finally lost it," Robin muttered.

"Oh no. No, my dear boy, you have it all wrong. It's you who are insane. You play the game. You jump through the hoop. But me? I know it's all a con, but rather than be hoodwinked into playing, I make up my own rules. The only sane response to an insane world, I suppose, is insanity. Heh heh! And that's what I'm trying to teach you, boy. Batman won't tell you this. But the reason you're so unhappy is you're too much of a victim, too much of a puppet in life's silly little game. Once you realize how much of a joke everything is, then you see the punch line everywhere!" He laughed, the one that turns your stomach inside out. "To realize how laughable everything is, first you need to learn how to let go."

Like a wild jackal, the Joker leapt onto the cage and plunged his hands through the bars. He had a knife, and Robin tried to pull away, but with his hand trapped, it was impossible. In a quick motion, the Joker cut the sling propping Robin's hand, then he spun to the side of the cage and kicked his leg in, knocking the chair across the floor from under Robin. Robin stood, his hand trapped, hovering over the button.

Joker pointed at it. "Do you remember the gifts I sent the eenie weenie Justice League known as the Teen Titans?"

Robin did.

"And do you remember that display of Kryptonite stolen from the Metropolis City Museum last month?"

He did. Superboy said Ma Kent had worried about it for a week.

"Well, it wasn't much, but it was more than enough to fashion a bullet." The Joker smiled. "I'd say sit down, but then you might accidentally hit that button, which as I'm about to explain, would be really bad for your dear little playmate Superboy. Using state of the art technology stolen from all over Gotham and Metropolis, and that creative flair only we super villains have, I created the perfect death trap. The glasses I sent sampled DNA, sending it to the false teeth, which were really a transmitter which relayed who the target would be. And it tells the bullet to home in on said target, wherever he is at, anywhere in the world. The horse is of course made of lead, housing the Kryptonite bullet, and will fire as soon as you hit that button. Life is really absurd, isn't it? After all the things we've been through, it's going to be you who kills your dear friend Superboy!" Joker clutched his sides and howled.

"What makes you think I'm going to hit the button?" Robin dared.

"Easy. Because you need to let go. But you have too many things holding you down. For instance, your obvious issues with your parents." The Joker reached down, and he pulled up a set of weights attached to a rope. He threw them over Robin's wrist. It drooped, but Robin held it up. "And then there's the issues with the dead girl." He produced another set of weights. Robin's hand drooped again, but he held it just as high. "And let's not forget how hard it is to deal with the Batman and how you'll never live up to his legacy!" Another set of weights. Robin struggled, but he kept his hand high. "And then there's just every day troubles like growing up, acne, school, being a costumed vigilante, and dealing with wackos who dress up as clowns and offer fake psychological advice to torture you into killing your best friend." He threw on the largest set of weights, and then his smile fell. Robin's arm still hadn't moved.

"Well," he said, biting his lip, clearly disappointed. "I guess I'll just let you think about that for a while." He walked away, turning the lights off as he went.

A cold sweat broke out across Robin's body. His arm already ached, every muscle in it tensed. His ribs hurt every time he took a breath. He closed his eyes though, and he shut it all out. He locked his knees, and he thought of something Lady Shiva had taught him. His body became rigid, stiff like a board. He would become like a tree.

And he stood like that, perfectly motionless, the arm not even moving an inch. He stood like that for an hour.

Then two.

And then another.

The Joker came down to check on him, but he became dismayed each time and stomped off. Several hours passed, and then finally, Joker exclaimed, "Oh, hell, I'll just do it myself." He leapt up, grabbed Robin's hand, and jerked it down to the button.

It flashed. Then beeped. And Robin's mouth hung open.

"I guess we'll find out if he's really faster than a speeding bullet like his old man, eh?" Joker said. Then he laughed.

Robin stared at the button, his mouth still wide. He imagined the bullet spiraling through the air. Saw it enter Conner's heart. Wonder Girl cries out, she catches him, but it's too late. He grips his chest, and he bleeds to death in her arms.

_And it's all my fault,_ Robin thought. Then he looked up at the Joker. "And yours."

"I'll kill you!" Robin shouted. He lunged forward, grasping and groping, the Joker just an inch from his reach. "I'll kill you! I swear to God, I'm going to carve that smile right off your face! Do you hear me, clown? You're dead!"

The Joker smiled slowly. "Yes, I hear you. And I must say, we finally have a breakthrough. I'm pleased. You're finally on the road to recovery."


	12. The Last Laugh

Issue #12 – _The Last Laugh_

Robin's hand throbbed. It started to swell. He could still move all of his fingers, but he was certain some of them were broken. After Joker had left him, cackling to the point of tears as he walked up the stairs, Robin had lost it. He turned into a feral animal, fierce, growling, roaring in rage. He began pounding on a bar of the cage, punching it, pretending it was the Joker's face. Tiny flecks of blood splattered on the floor below. He heard a crunch. But he kept punching away.

_Clang! _

_Clang!_

_Clang!_

The blows echoed around the room. Each time with Robin screamed louder. His throat ached, and finally his voice gave out. He coughed, threw a few more feeble punches, then collapsed to the cage's floor. His chest heaved, but he shivered and pulled his knees up to his chest. The world went blurry for a moment, and he reached under his mask to wipe away a single tear.

"Conner," he whispered into the dark. The name made his heart heavy. He felt it drop to the bottom of his stomach and shatter. A shiver went up his spine, through his shoulders, and then his whole body shook. He gasped for air, and his body trembled again. Another tear came to his eye. This one slipped out of the mask, down his face, cutting a trail through the paint and dried blood.

"Get it together, Tim," he ordered. He drew a breath, and his body became still. _Shut it out. Concentrate. Focus. _Except for the rage and sadness in his heart, he had nothing to focus on. So he blanked his mind, became like a dead man, sitting perfectly still with his chest rising only slightly.

This is how the Joker found him. Robin heard the man enter, heard every footstep as the Joker came down the stairs. He didn't open his eyes, but he knew the Joker was only about a yard from the cage. _Get a little closer_, Robin thought. _I'm going to tear out your throat. _

Joker took a step. He was within Robin's reach now, but Robin didn't move. Joker stood there, looking around, and he saw the blood on the cage's bar and the droplets which had splattered on the floor. "Typical kid," he mused. "Always making a mess."

Robin struck like a cobra. He ached and had lost much strength, but he was still fast. He sprung forward and shoved his hand between the bars.

And the Joker caught it.

He smiled. "Glad to see you haven't lost your spirit." He kissed Robin's bloodied and broken fingers. "I've come down here to tell you that I'm very pleased with your progress. I think you're almost cured. There's just one final lesson to teach you. And that's about generosity."

Robin sprang forward to kick the Joker in the teeth, but Joker jerked his arm. Robin went sailing face first into the metal bars. The Joker jerked the arm downward. Robin hit the floor, hard, and Joker sat down, holding him there so Robin couldn't get up. He was weak from over two days of brutality and no food, and Joker was deceptively strong.

Joker smiled. "You're a bright kid. I'm sure you're aware that Batman and I have a bit of a history."

The Joker twisted Robin's arm, gently, playing with it more than trying to hurt him. "Bats and I go way back. And we have this sort of game, you see. I go out and cause some mayhem, and he beats up all of my cohorts and sends me back to Arkham. In exchange, I like to do things just to mess with him. You know, just to see if I can get a rise out of the guy. Like covering a crowd on New Years with Joker Venom. Or.." His voice became a hiss. "…murdering his kids." His throat rumbled with a chuckle.

"And this is where you come in, bird boy! See, I'm sure old Bats just has his cape in a big ol' knot worrying about you. Nothing upsets daddy bats more than not knowing where their baby birds are. So I'm going to send him a little message to let him know you're still safe in the care of your Uncle Joker." He smiled and looked over at his free hand. With a bit of sleight of hand, a knife appeared. "This is where you learn about helping others. Because, Robin, you're going to give me…a hand."

Robin tried to jerk away, but Joker put his feet against the cage. With all the Joker's weight bearing down on his broken hand, Robin couldn't move. His body was too beat up, too busted. He tried to push up, but he couldn't, and the Joker started to laugh as he raised the knife then brought it slowly to Robin's wrist. Lower, lower, he drew it out as long as he could. Robin felt the blade against his skin. The skin broke. Warm blood leaked over his wrist, and the blade, ever so slowly, pressed past the first layer of skin.

Robin bit his lip. He tried to blank his mind. Tried to move out of his body. Tried to forget about the pain about to be inflicted.

"I guess you won't be very handy from now on," the Joker laughed.

Suddenly Joker stopped. "Eh? What's that?" Robin heard it too. There was a rumble, a sound like a freight train barreling through a tunnel. For a moment, the ground shook, and then it exploded beneath the Joker. A black and blue streak erupted from it, and Joker went sailing into the air and landed with a thud on top of the cage.

Robin looked up. Hovering where the Joker had just been was Superboy.

"Did somebody call for a dramatic rescue?" Superboy asked.

Robin blinked. Was this real? Was this another one of Joker's tricks? Or had he finally snapped?

"Oh, god…" Superboy gasped, floating down to the cage. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. It looks a lot worse than it is." Robin's voice was shaky.

Superboy shook his head. Robin looked like death. "Hang on, let's get you out of here." He placed his hands on the metal bars, shut his eyes, and muttered _touchdown_. Robin almost smirked. It was such a very Conner thing to do, but the bars exploded, leaving a gap large enough for Robin to crawl through. "I contacted the Oracle. She's relaying our position to the other Titans and Batman now. Did you know I had to fly through the sewers to find this place? It's apparently some second level basement, and the ceiling is lined with lead. It was almost impossible to find with the X-ray vision."

Robin tried to push himself up. "You're so much like Superman, these days." Robin half smiled. "X-ray vision. Swooping in just in the nick of time. Dodging bullets with the greatest of ease."

"Dodging bullets?"

"You know, the kryptonite bullet. How did you get away from it?"

"I don't know what you're—"

They heard laughter from the top of the cage.

Superboy looked up and saw Joker pulling himself to his feet. "Robin, dear boy, I'm afraid you fell hook line and sinker for one of the oldest jokes in the book. There never was a kryptonite bullet! You went through all that anguish and grief, breaking your hand over missing your friend for nothing! Ha ha! You had to be quite the yutz to fall for it. A toy horse firing a kryptonite bullet? Come on. That's absurd even for the Joker!"

Superboy clenched his fists. "You're one second away from a body cas—hck!" Superboy gasped and clutched his throat. Blood leaked from between his fingers, and he fell to his knees.

Joker dropped down beside him. "There was one thing I didn't lie about though. It turns out kryptonite is easily fashioned into playing cards." He kicked at Superboy's hand, and there glowing green, stuck in the boy's throat, was a playing card. "Joker's pretty wild, eh?"

Robin growled and lunged forward. He dove from the cage, but his face met something hard, and he sailed back against the metal bars and collapsed on the floor. The Joker twirled a staff around in his fingers. Not just any staff, but Robin's staff.

"I must admit. Before I ditched your costume, I may have ruffled through your pockets a little. And I found some pretty remarkable things. First was this." Joker twirled the staff around and struck a pose from a bad kung-fu movie. "I always did want to be a ninja. And the second was this." He reached into his pocket, and he pulled out a ring which he slipped on his finger.

He flipped open the top, and it emitted a green light. "I must say, you can't find these in a box of Cracker Jacks."

Robin gasped. The ring. Batman had given it to him, insisted he take it. Just in case. It was made of Kryptonite, fashioned from a small piece from the ring Superman had given Batman.

Superboy lay gasping and bleeding on the floor, and the Joker stood over him. He raised the staff over his head, chuckling gleefully, and he struck a blow across Superboy's shoulders. Then he raised his fist, and he punched Superboy with the ring. And then he started pummeling. Superboy's face started to bleed.

Robin pulled himself up. But before he could lunge for an attack, the Joker went sailing across the room.

"Whaaat theee deeeeuuuuce…?" He crashed against the wall and fell to a heap.

Robin blinked for a moment, then he looked up. There stood Kid Flash. Kid Flash stared down at him, muffling a gasp, and then his eyes fell on Superboy. "Oh man… Oh man! We have to get you guys to a doctor!"

Robin shook his head and he kneeled down by Superboy. He ripped off part of Superboy's shirt, removed the playing card, and held the cloth against the wound. "I'm fine. I'll take care of Superboy. You go stop the Joker."

"Are you sure? You don't look fine at all."

"Just don't worry about me."

Kid Flash shrugged. Then he zipped over to the Joker who was just getting to his feet.

"And who are you supposed to be? Did the Flash shrink in the dryer or something?"

"No, actually, my name's Kid Flash. And I'll be kicking your butt today." Kid Flash zipped around the Joker, jabbing with rights and lefts, not hard enough to knock the man out, but just hard enough to hurt and be annoying. Joker tried to bat him away, but he looked like a man losing a fight against a swarm of mosquitoes. Kid Flash laughed, backed off, and stuck his hands on his hips. "Wow, you're not very tough at all, are you?"

"You obnoxious little brat," Joker grumbled. "Don't you know who I am? I'm the Joker!"

"Please." Kid Flash rolled his eyes. "I stopped being afraid of clowns when I was, like, three."

_B-Bang!_ A loud explosion echoed around the room. Like landmines, both of Kid Flash's knees exploded, shooting blood and bits of flesh across the floor. His eyes rolled back in his head. His legs buckled. Joker smiled, and the boy fell to the floor, revealing Harley Quinn behind him, holding two smoking guns.

"Just call me Calamity Jane," she said, blowing smoke from the barrels.

"How about I just call you an ambulance?" Wonder Girl appeared and punched Harley in the stomach. The woman went sailing across the room. When she hit the ground, she bounced.

"Ooow!" Harley moaned, clutching her side and standing. She yowled. "You stupid little girl! Don't you realize I'm mortal? I don't have the big fancy superpowers. I'm no match for you!"

Wonder Girl smiled. "Aw, I know." She flew at Harley, aiming another punch. But just before it landed, Harley pulled the tazer from behind her back. It caught Wonder Girl in the throat, shooting electricity through her body, and the girl fell to the floor.

Joker applauded. "Good show, Harley!"

"Thanks, Mistah J.!"

"See, Robin, here's something else we have in common. We're always being underestimated. Just because we don't have fancy powers, every wacko in a bright costume or cape just thinks they can walk all over us. It's kind of funny, if you think about it, because one time…" Joker stopped. He felt someone tapping him on the shoulder. He turned, and he looked into the scowling face of Nightwing.

"Oh, it's you." Joker sighed. "This is really going to hurt, isn't it?"

Nightwing's fist struck Joker across the face. A bloody tooth sailed through the air as the Joker reeled backward. "Yep," Joker said, staggering. "I was right." Another blow, and Joker went down. Nightwing growled and kneeled over him.

"You hurt the kids. I hurt you." He pulled his fist back, and he threw it hard into the Joker's chest. Joker choked, but then he smiled. Nightwing pulled his fist back and he looked at it. A tiny drop of blood appeared on his glove.

Joker unbuttoned his jacket, and attached to his chest was a tiny needle. "Joker Venom," he said offhandedly.

Nightwing's face twisted into a grin, and he fell over. It started as a rumble in his throat, a mere chuckle, but then he was howling with laughter. He groped for his belt, and he pulled out a small vile. He tried to bring it to his lips.

"Oh, no you don't." The Joker kicked it, and it slid across the floor. He sat down beside Nightwing, and he watched the young man gasp for air between fits laughter. "Say…did you ever hear the one about the two cows? One says, 'Moo!' and the other says, 'Jerk, I was going to say that!'" He slapped Nightwing on the back as Nightwing howled with laughter. "Or how about the guy who walked into the doctor's office with a carrot in his ear and a piece of celery in his nose. The doctor said he wasn't eating right!" Joker punched Nightwing in the face as the man rolled, still cackling, now with tears streaming down his face. "Oh, kid, I like you. You always were more fun than Batman. You always appreciated a good joke. In fact, you'll probably appreciate this. You're going to be the third partner Batman's lost. And Robin over there will be number four. The second and third ones this year, and the second and third ones done by me specifically! Aren't I such a card?" He leapt up, and he kicked Nightwing in the ribs.

Nightwing absorbed it. Then he looked up. The vial of antidote wasn't far away. He started to claw at the floor, very slowly moving towards it.

Joker placed his hands on his hips and paced around, eying the carnage which had just erupted. Then he threw his arms into the air and shouted, "Where are you, Batman? I know you're out there. I brutally tortured your kid, whooped most of the Teen Titans. I know you're out there in the shadows, waiting. Why don't you show yourself and fight like a real man? Where are you, Batman?"

There was a _thwack_. Joker looked up, and he saw Harley collapse to the floor. Robin stood behind her, clutching his staff. The bat insignia on his chest seemed to glow. Behind his mask, his eyes were filled with rage. His heart had turned as cold as stone. "I'm right here."

"You? Ha! You're not Batman. You're just kid playing dress up. But oh well." Joker reached behind his back, there was a sound, and he pulled out his Joker cane. "If it's a whoopin' you're a-wantin'..."

Robin charged him. Joker blocked the first blow, swung, but Robin easily blocked it. Joker tried to sweep Robin's legs, but Robin jumped, swung again, but the Joker blocked. Robin jabbed, and Joker pushed it up, but when he did, he left himself open, and Robin's foot landed square in Joker's gut. The staff connected right under Joker's chin, and another tooth went sailing through the air as he stumbled and fell backwards.

"Not bad for an amateur," Joker said drunkenly. Then the air left his body as Robin landed on his stomach. Robin grabbed him by the collar and threw a fist into his face.

"That was for my mom!" Another punch. Joker's head spun. "That was for my dad!" _Whack! _This time in the teeth. "That was for Stephanie!" There was a loud crack, and Joker's nose started to gush blood. "That was for Jason! And this one's for Barbara! And Sarah Gordon!" _Wham! Smack! Whack!_ "And what you just did to Superboy! And Kid Flash! And Wonder Girl!" Each shout was followed by another harsh blow straight to the Joker's face. His pale skin became crimson. Blood dyed his hair red. "This is for what you did to my friends! And my family! This is for Nightwing! And every time you've taken something away from Batman!" He pulled his fist back, aiming it like a sniper. "And this…this is for every time one of you sickos has hurt somebody innocent." _Wham. _"Every time someone has cried because one of you whackos hurt a loved one." _Smack!_ "I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else, do you hear me?" _Wham. Smack. Whack. _"Do you hear me?" Robin's words became lost in an animal growl, and his fists pummeled the Joker over and over and over until it made sounds like he was punching wet meat.

"Robin."

Robin kept screaming. Kept punching.

"Robin!"

Screaming. Punching. Just blind rage.

"Tim." Robin pulled back for another punch, but something grabbed his fist. He growled, turned, ready to pounce, and towering over him was a tall man in a dark cloak.

Through the rage, Robin didn't recognize him at first.

Batman didn't seem to recognize him either.

"Get away from me!" Robin exclaimed, jerking his hand free. He stumbled past Batman, and he saw everyone standing around him. Catwoman. Batgirl. Nightwing had stumbled to his feet, still breathing heavily, leaning on Starfire. Beast Boy was a gorilla, cradling Kid Flash in his arms. Kid Flash winced and clutched his knees. Superboy coughed and leaned on Wonder Girl who didn't look too stable herself. And there was Raven. She covered her mouth.

They didn't say anything. But their eyes cut through him. Their mouths hung open slightly. They looked terrified, like their blood was running cold.

Robin looked back at the Joker. The clown was a mess. His face bubbled with each breath. Robin looked down at himself, white, bruised, battered. Covered in his own dried blood. Covered in wet blood from the Joker. His hand throbbing. His chest aching. He was naked. Cold. Exposed in front of everyone he had left.

He felt hands on his back, and a cloak draped over his shoulders. He pulled it around himself. Batman had given him his cape. He looked up at the man, into his eyes. Though they were hidden behind the mask, Robin could still feel them. He could still sense them. He knew Bruce's eyes looked down on him in disappointment. Robin shook. Robin's body trembled, and he fell forward. Batman caught him, actually wrapped his arms around him, and held Robin close to his chest.

I blew it. I couldn't handle things. And now I'm breaking down. Sobbing. Not like Robin. Not like a good soldier. Like a helpless kid who got in over his head. I…I…I was so scared…. I'm sorry I was scared.

Then he felt hands run through his hair. Nightwing kneeled beside them and put an arm over his back. Batgirl kneeled down and touched his shoulder. Bruce, of all people, held him the closest. And he whispered, "It's okay, Tim. You're going to be okay."


	13. The Titans and Mr Pennyworth

Issue #13 – _The Titans and Mr. Pennyworth_

Bart stared up at the huge iron gates. They looked like prison gates or the gates to an old castle where they used to torture maidens for Saturday entertainment. They sent a shiver down his spine, and his eyes fell over the words etched into them: _Wayne Manor. _None of the trees around the mansion had leaves, and the house itself resembled an insane asylum more than an actual living space. How anyone could call this home, Bart wasn't sure. Then he remembered it was Batman's. "God, he's so super intense."

Bart smoothed down his t-shirt, and he started to tap his foot impatiently. There was the rushing of air, and Superboy landed in front of him. Superboy started buttoning a flannel shirt over his _S _t-shirt.

"It's about time you got here," Bart said.

"Hey, I had to come out here all the way from Kansas, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Where's Cassie?"

"She's not coming. Something about not skipping school. I dunno. Something dumb like that."

Superboy was now Conner Kent again, typical farm boy, straight down to the glasses. Bart almost chuckled every time he saw it. It was so totally not Conner. At all. "So," Bart started, "how should we go about doing this? Do we just go knock on the door?"

"We can't just walk in, can we?"

"I know, but…well, you know how Tim and Batman are. They're kind of, um…you know…."

"Creepy? Spooky? Weird?"

"Paranoid. What if this place is booby trapped. I mean, what if we ring the doorbell and then the Batapult launches us into the stratosphere. Or maybe it unleashes a swarm of killer bees—Bat-bees. Or maybe he'll sic Ace the Bat-Hound on us."

"Ace the Bat-Hound?"

Bart shrugged. "I don't _think_ he has one, but I could swear I read about it once."

Conner just rolled his eyes and grabbed Bart by the back of his shorts. Bart squirmed and whined as Conner gave him a super wedgie over the gate and they landed on the front step. He just smiled as Bart gave him the meanest of glares, and he pounded on the door.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ He could hear it echoing around the manor.

A full minute passed. Then the door opened to reveal a proper elderly gentleman, gray hair where he wasn't bald, and a moustache. He wore a suit, but no jacket, and he carried a feather duster. "May I help you?" he asked. Then curtly, he added, "And more pressingly, may I ask how you passed through the gate? It is quite impolite to trespass, which is what you are doing since I did not open the gate for you."

Conner and Bart blinked at him. "What were we supposed to do?" Bart asked. "Shout until you heard us?"

"There's a buzzer, _sir_. It is clearly marked. Unless, of course, you cannot read. May I inquire what has brought you to our doorstep?"

"Yeah," Conner said. "We're here to see Tim."

"Tim?"

"Uh, yeah… Tim Drake….?"

"Oh, please don't tell me we have the wrong address," Bart muttered.

The man looked them over for a moment. There was something about his eyes which suddenly made them both feel self-conscious. Conner became aware that his shirt was untucked and that his jeans had a hole ripped into the knee. Bart crossed his arms to cover the text on his shirt: _Take Off Your Pants and Jacket_. He tried not to think about what was on the back.

"Please come this way," the man said, motioning them inside.

The boys let out a collective sigh of relief. Bart nudged Conner. "Super intense," he whispered. "Super intense!"

"Please, have a seat," the man said, motioning to two chairs by the stairs. They sat down, and then he walked out of the room.

Conner looked up at Bart. Bart looked up at Conner. They both shrugged.

The man returned with a tray of cookies and two glasses of milk. "It has been a while since Master Drake has stayed at the manor, and I must say his presence has brought us all sorts of company. Master Grayson has made regular appearances, along with Miss Gordon and Miss Cain. If there is a positive to Master Drake's misfortune, it is that it has brought a certain bit of liveliness back into the conversation in this house."

Bart chuckled between bites of cookie. "Bruce isn't much of a talker, eh?"

The man glared at him. "_Mister_ Wayne prefers to keep conversation to a minimum."

The tone of the man's voice made Bart sit straighter in the chair.

"Master Drake," the old butler said, "is still recuperating. As I am sure you are aware, he does not sleep well, not even when he is ill. If he is sleeping, I will have to ask that you do not disturb him. I will be back immediately." He took three steps up the stairs, and then he stopped. He looked directly at them. "Please refrain from touching anything."

"God," Bart muttered, "how did he _know_?"

Conner shrugged. "You know, this might be the best cookie I've ever had." He shoved too more into his mouth.

A few minutes past, then they heard the creaking of the stairs. The butler stood in front of them. "Master Wayne is sitting with him now. He will be down to address you in a few moments."

The boys nodded, their hearts sinking just a little. They wanted to see Tim. The less they had to interact with Bruce Wayne, really, the better.

The butler cleared his throat. "I have known Master Wayne since he was just a boy, and I have had the privilege to meet several of his…associates…. Over the years, I feel I have come to know them fairly well, and in doing so, I am almost certain you two have not heard these words: thank you."

They both looked up. "What?"

"From what I understand, it was your efforts which led to finding Master Drake." He looked at Conner. "Without you, the situation could have had a much dire ending."

Conner rubbed the back of his head.

"I am aware you were the second on the scene," the man said, looking at Bart. "This has not been the best of years for Master Drake or us. I cannot overstate the extent of our gratitude."

Bart blushed a little.

"Please pass our gratitude on to Master Drake's other friends as well. I understand his rescue came at the cost of personal injury." He eyed the scar on Conner's throat. Conner tried to cover it. It really wasn't a big deal—it would probably be gone by the end of the week anyway.

Bart was not as modest. "I'll say!" he chimed. He pulled his legs up to the chair and pulled back his shorts, exposing his knees. "See here? That's where the bullets went through. Luckily, they went clear out the front so I didn't have to get another operation. I know you can't see any scars, which is one of the bad parts of the fast metabolism 'cause scars are cool, but it still really sucked. It wasn't _that _big of a deal though. I'm tough." He pounded his chest. "I can take it."

The butler coughed. "Yes, well, while I appreciate your sacrifice, it does not thrill me to hear stories of young people endangering their lives. It never has, and it never will. If you will excuse me, I have unfinished business with a pesky bit of dust in the library, but I believe I hear Master Wayne descending the stairs now."

The butler disappeared behind a door, and they looked up to see a tall man in a suit. He wasn't like what Bart had expected. Bart wasn't sure what Conner expected, but he had read a lot of newspapers recently. In all the pictures, all the magazine articles, Bruce Wayne always smiled. He always had a girl on each arm, some Champaign, and just generally seemed air headed and carefree. Descending the staircase, though, he looked grim and solemn. He looked like Batman.

Bart sighed. "So intense."

Bruce stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Tim is sleeping right now. You may go see him, but I insist that you do not wake him." He stared directly at Bart. "That means not a sound. If you follow me, I will show you to his room."

They stood up, and they followed. As they did, Bruce glanced at his watch. "You are both supposed to be in school right now."

"Please don't tell Wally."

"Or Superman."

Bruce turned to them. "I won't. But if you skip school again…"

"You will?"

Bruce shook his head, and he looked them right in the eyes. "No. You will answer to me."

They swallowed hard. They were at Tim's room, though, and Bruce held the door open for them. He reminded them to be quiet, but then he left them to their privacy.

Tim looked…he looked more or less like Tim. He seemed a little smaller than usual, though. The blanket was pulled up to his waist, but his top was bare, so they could see the tape around his rubs and the bruising. He had a bandage on his neck from the tazer burn, and his hand was in a cast too. His face looked a lot better though, but he only took small breaths. It looked like it hurt him to breathe. His laptop lay open beside him on the bed. Bart walked over to it, looked at the screen, and smiled.

Conner raised an eyebrow.

Bart turned the computer so he could see, and Conner chuckled. It said _World of Warcraft_. Tim was such a nerd sometimes.

After about ten minutes, the butler came back and asked them to give Tim his peace. So they did, and as the huge oak door to Wayne Manor closed behind them, Bart turned to Conner and asked, "So…do you think he'll be okay?"

"He's tough. I'm sure he's been through worse. He'll be back flipping and tossing batarangs in no time."

"I didn't mean physically. I mean, do you think he'll be okay…?" Bart tapped his chest.

Conner shrugged. "Who knows with Tim? I bet when he dies, nobody will know for the longest time because his body will keep going through the motions like nothing is wrong."

Bart nodded. "I want him to be okay."

"Me too, man. Me too."


	14. The Best of You

Issue #14 – _The Best of You_

_All alone or in twos, the ones that really love you walk up and down outside the wall. _

Saturday morning.

8:02 AM to be exact.

Conner floated up the stairs of Titans Tower. It was always quiet at this time of the morning with most of the Titans sleeping in. Conner wished he could sleep in too, but the whole absorbing Earth's yellow sunlight thing made sleeping more of a chore than a pleasure. He was going to go to Tim's room, give him a friendly wake up call, and maybe see if he wanted to go get coffee or go to the record store. Really, he just wanted to talk. They hadn't had a chance to talk since the whole Joker incident, and Friday night the other Titans had gotten in the way. Beast Boy had insisted they all see some dumb Rob Schneider movie, and Bart talked them into a _Mario Kart _tournament. Tim participated, saying nothing as he spanked Bart in the final round, but he seemed like he was going through the motions more than anything. The others noticed it too. Every time Conner looked at Cass, she would glance at Tim, then give him a look. And Raven looked like she was trying to find the right thing to say.

When Conner went by, Tim hadn't been in his room. Starfire had been down in the garden watering some weird alien plant of hers. And Cyborg had been tinkering with Bart's Game Cube, seeing if he could soup it up or something. But neither of them had seen Tim. There was only one place left to check, and that was the roof.

Conner pushed open the door, and a gentle breeze caressed his cheek. The first thing he saw was Tim sitting on the edge, feet dangling over the side, his hand in a cast. The bandages still bulged beneath Tim's t-shirt. It was the one which said _Just Shut Up—_which Conner always found humorously appropriate—and Tim had on a pair of athletic shorts. They were the clothes Tim had slept in, which was odd. Tim always hopped in the shower and dressed first thing in the morning. Something about being ready for whatever would come in the day, he said.

Watching from the doorway, Conner saw Tim stand up. Tim balanced himself perfectly, his bare toes barely jutting over the edge, and he spread his arms out as far as they would go. He stood there for a moment, seeming to take in the fresh air and view of the city, and then he stepped forward.

He disappeared over the side.

"Holy shi—!" Conner exclaimed. He shot over the side caught Tim before he had even fallen four stories. "What were you thinking? What's gotten into you?" Conner scolded, setting Tim back on the roof.

Tim looked up at him solemnly, his eyes cold and distant. "I hate myself and I want to die," he whispered.

Conner swallowed hard. "Tim, I know you've been through a lot, but…"

"Conner. I know what you're going to say. But save it. Nothing you can do or say will help." Tim hung his head. "Because…" Tim started to choke. "This is so hard for me to say, but it's because…" A sly smile crossed his face. "…it's because I was just pulling your leg anyway."

"What?"

Tim chuckled. "I heard you coming a mile away. I'm just joking around with you."

"That wasn't a very funny joke. At all." Conner punched him in the shoulder, and Tim took the full brunt of the blow with a laugh. He sat back on the edge of the building and Conner sat down beside him.

"I have a weird sense of humor," Tim explained.

"What would you have done if I hadn't caught you?"

Tim shrugged. "Died? I really don't think I could survive a fall from this height."

"So how did you know I would catch you!"

"Because you're my friend, Conner. And you always do." Then Tim's smile fell, and he fiddled with his hands. He stared at them, then out across the city. "Conner, I want to say I'm sorry."

"Well, that _was_ a cruel joke."

Tim shook his head. "Not for that. You were right. I put up a wall to keep people out. And it's not fair, especially to my friends, who have shown me time and time again that I have no need for it."

"There's no hard feelings. That's just you being Tim. And we like you being Tim, even when you're ticking us off."

"Yeah. Ha." Tim paused. "So how are you and Cass doing?"

"Huh? I guess we're alright. We have another date tonight. We have some good times. Heh. Some _really_ good times. It's nothing too serious though."

Tim nodded. "That sounds good."

"Yeah. It is." Conner blushed a little. "I really like her."

"I know. You give her longing stares."

"I do not!"

Tim glared at him.

"Okay, maybe I do…"

They laughed, but when the laughter died away, Tim grew quiet again. He stared at his hands for a while, and then he said, "I've been doing a lot of thinking. About a lot of things. Dad. Mom. You guys. Steph…" He swallowed. "I've never told anybody this, but Steph and I…we almost slept together."

Conner didn't know what to say.

"We…we'd been dating for a while. And she'd just found out I was Robin. Or rather, I guess, found out I was Tim Drake. And we had a date. It wasn't anything special, we just saw a movie, ate some dinner, then hung around. We ended up going back to my room, and we were sitting there, and we started…making out. And one thing led to another, and things…things got a little more intense than usual." Tim laughed nervously. Then he sighed. "But then suddenly, right when it was about to happen, she rolled off me and sat on the edge of the bed. And she started to cry. See, it wasn't the first time for her. And the last time she'd done it, she ended up pregnant and had to give up the baby. And she never really got over that. She said she just wasn't ready yet, couldn't handle it, and that she was sorry. I told her it was okay, but she just kept saying 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry.' Over and over again. I never really understood why. I never saw anything for her to be sorry about."

Tim sighed, and his body shook a little. "I bet you're wondering why I'm telling you this. But when I was with the Joker, when I had him in my hands, just beating him…I honestly wanted to kill him. I almost killed him. I just became this cold, unfeeling…thing. I wasn't human anymore. And then I saw you guys, and you were scared of me. And I don't think I've ever been more ashamed. I feel like I've let you all down. And then I can't help but think of the future, the one we saw, where I'm Batman and I carry a gun. I thought there was no way that would ever happen, but then I felt the Joker dying in my hands, and…I was him, Conner. I was that man, and I don't ever want to be him."

"You don't have to be," Conner said. "We won't let you."

Tim nodded. "I know. You guys, my friends, Dick, Bruce, and Cassandra, you keep me from being that cold and ruthless. But it'd be easy for me to become that cold and ruthless again if I keep you at a distance. I realized something. I don't think the people I care about know I care about them. My biggest regret is that I didn't tell Dad I loved him one more time before he died. And Steph…if she really knew how much I cared about her, I don't think she would have kept saying she was sorry for not sleeping with me. And see, by my telling you this, then, it's not the same, but at least someone knows I cared about her. And by telling you this, you should know I care about you too."

Conner was taken back. Searching for the right thing to say, he ended up making a wisecrack. "Gee, does your voice hurt? I don't think you've ever talked this much." Tim smiled, which made it easier to say, "I know you care, Tim."

"I do. A lot. When I was with the Joker, he convinced me that you died. That I had killed you." Tim held up his cast. "I kind of lost it."

"Well, you never did have much self control."

"Ha. Man…I just don't know. I don't know what I would do. After losing Steph. And Dad. I don't think I could handle it if something bad happened to my friends. Especially you, Conner. You're my best friend. I honestly think I would snap if something happened to you."

Conner smiled. "I don't think you have to worry about that. I'm the Boy of Steel." He flexed his muscles. "Nothing can take me down."

Tim rolled his eyes. "You keel over at the slightest exposure to a glowing piece of rock!"

"Yeah. Well. Uh…about that…"

They laughed again.

"Don't worry, Tim. I won't leave you. I'm not going to die on you."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise. And Superboy _never_ breaks a promise."

Tim smiled, actually smiled, and looked out over the city of San Francisco.

The air rustled around their heads. They looked up, and there stood Bart. He was still in his pajamas too. The pants had little skulls on them, and his T-shirt said _Nevermind the Bollocks…_ But the words _Sex Pistols_ had been marked out so it now said _…Here Comes Impulse._ He had been meaning to update it for the name change.

"What are you guys doing up here? Are you exchanging secrets again? You always do this when I'm not around. I want to be part of it this time. I have deep dark secrets too!" He sat down on the edge of the building and kicked his socked heels against the side. "One time I was at Wally's house and I ate an entire jar of jam even though I wasn't hungry. And then I stuck it back in the refrigerator, and when he asked me about it, I said I didn't know what he was talking about. And he believed me and thought he ate it himself." Bart hung his head.

"Wow, Bart," Conner said. "You're such a bad kid."

"I can't believe they let you be a superhero," Tim added.

"I know! I hear I'm coming up for review with the Justice League. They may revoke my license."

They laughed. And Bart smiled. He really liked making people laugh.

"So what do you guys want to do today?" Bart asked.

"I don't know," Tim said. "I was thinking maybe we could go to the music store. Look at instruments. Maybe think about starting that folk punk band you were talking about."

Bart's eyes lit up. "Really? Can we call ourselves The Green Day Seventy-Fives?"

"We'll think about that."

"Awesome! Oh man, I can't wait. Beast Boy is going to be soooo jealous." They stood up and started to make their way for the door. Bart kept going on about how awesome their band was going to be.

Tim just laughed and he messed up Bart's hair.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"Jeeze, Bart. Haven't you ever heard of physical signs of fraternal affection before?" He punched Bart in the shoulder.

Bart blinked. "I don't know what you've done with the real Tim Drake," he said. "But I'm glad you're feeling better." Then he gave Tim a hug, careful to avoid his ribs.

Tim smiled again. His face sort of ached. He hadn't done it in such a long time. "Come on," Bart said. "I watched an entire season of _Iron Chef_ on high speed this week. I'll make us some flippin' sweet pancakes."

Conner and Tim rolled their eyes. "Oh joy."

_And when they've given you their all, some stagger and fall. After all, it's not easy banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall.  
-_"Outside the Wall" by Pink Floyd

End.


End file.
